The Prince of Wall Street
by Daughter Of Vegeta
Summary: The business world has always been two things: risky and ruthless. With Capsule Corporation becoming corrupt, and Ouji Enterprises rising to the top, both heirs to the companies are bounded to their ascension within their business. However, one is lost, and nowhere to be found. The other? He switches from battles within the boardroom to battles with sexy secretaries...
1. Chapter 1

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing of Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z, or GT. I'm just a happy little camper (student) who writes in her free time, and hangs out with her dogs. Additionally, the cover photo is a photo I found from surfing on the internet and belongs to the rightful owner (whoever it may be)._**

 _ **Can you blame me? It was a sexy picture of Vegeta.**_

 ** _Beta: Myself._**

 ** _Posted: 6-22-15_**

* * *

 _Tick._

 _Tick._

 _Tick._

It filled her being, like a venom born to destroy her. A large, silk ribbon slid into her mouth, and slipped down the saliva within her esophagus. It did not reach her stomach; instead, it pierced through a precise, direct course and stuck to the crimson surrounding her lungs.

She inhaled.

The ribbon tightened.

Exhaled.

It tightened once more.

Slowly, with the more, quiet and shaky breaths she took, the more knots were added inside her chest. With each inhale, the ribbon wrapped tighter around her lungs and nerves, making it difficult to breath.

This? This was anxiety.

An emotion that this female had never been exposed to.

A petite young woman sat on the edge of her sleek cushioned chair, wringing her fingers together nervously. She ran a sweaty palm through her well-combed locks, transferring the small beads and webbing her hair together. The tips of her shoes bounced impatiently against the marble tiled flooring of the office, resounding a soft _tap_ off of the twenty foot high ceiling.

Adrenaline gushed through her veins, pumping her wonderful nerves through her purple fountains. She needed this job.

It was not her forte - oh, no. This is not what she loved, but she could _learn_ to love it.

She needed to stay low - stay undercover until the storm passed. And this? This was her opportunity to use her impeccable literature skills that she had developed after writing numerous lab reports.

There had been threats against her family's life that pushed her far, far away from home. She had hopped numerous cities, hoping to remain disguised in the mix of the public. Whoever was threatening her, and her family truly wanted her company's name.

The question, of course, would be why? Well, Capsule Corporation always had a knack for attracting those who were power-hungry fools.

Her head hung low, but through her thick lashes she watched as long, slender fingers carefully folded each page with precision. Each paper rustled loudly as the pads of the editor-in-chief's fingertips tenderly touched each page, a curve of a smile upon her facial features.

"Very...intriguing," her thick accent complimented, breaking the fifteen minutes of silence. "I must say, you do have an interesting train of thought, and a crude sense of humour."

The corner of the girl's lips tugged upward into a small smirk. _I know,_ she thought smugly as she dragged her eyes to meet the dark-haired woman's.

"Thank you, Mrs. Chambers," she smiled in response, her eyes lighting up. "I always take such nice compliments to heart - especially from a famous editor such as yourself."

 _Never hurts to stroke that ego,_ she inwardly snorted as she brushed a hand through her hair, tucking it behind her left ear.

"You're right, you are speaking to a editor in chief," Chambers chuckled, resting her elbows upon her mahogany desk. "Which is quite impressive, really," she blinked her thick eyelashes, smiling at the blue-haired woman. "I believe you do possess the talent to write for Wall Street-"

The blue-eyed girl's back straightened, and she held her head high confidently with a small smile, waiting for the co-editor to continue.

"-And I think you'd be a great fit…"

Her stomach flipped with joy, and her smile grew wider.

"However, I want a story right away on your first day. If you don't have a story, don't bother walking through the pretty little glass doors of the company."

And, her bubble of extreme happiness was bursted and copious amounts of disappointment replaced her joy, weighing her down. A new story? Pretty little glass doors?

 _Tch. No wonder why this bitch is the editor in chief,_ she thought, her smile faltering slightly as she echoed: "A new story?"

"Yes," Mrs. Chambers _'hmphed'_ , a gleam of excitement in her eye as she leaned back in her expensive leather chair. "I want it _big_ ," she said, propping her elbows on each armrest, flashing her jazz hands open and wide. "I want it juicy, and I want it entertaining. But most of all, I want it to sell."

The young accomplice tapped her chin thoughtfully, chewing on her bottom lip. "I think," she began softly, her eyes narrowing in deep thought, "that I can do that. Is there anything you're specifically looking for? Other than entertaining, of course."

"Why, Ms…." she briefly looked down at my papers, a broad, sultry smile on her red fire engine lips. "Ms. Noall, I thought you'd never ask."

Her bony hand wrapped around a small electronic device, and her acrylic nails typed in her password before the machine made a swift swoosh. Within seconds, she placed the device in front of the young girl, a smirk on her lips. "Him," she pointed to the flame-haired man with a cocky smirk, "I want to know _everything_ about him."

"Ouji?" her heart stopped as she breathed out the name, her eyes widening as she looked at Mrs. Chambers with a worrisome expression. _Shit,_ she inwardly cursed, _way to go, trying to stay undercover, Bulma._

"Yes, Mr. Vegeta Ouji," she chuckled, her smile growing wider. "The public does not know enough about him…and I want dirt. I know there is something dirty about that company - I can smell it," she stated, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Perhaps...it may be Senior, but I want you to find that out. And, I feel that you are the perfect match that I have been waiting for. You, out of all the others, have impressed me."

"I…" she was speechless, but after a few brief moments, she released a reluctant sigh. "I can do it." _Maybe there's something I can find out for myself…perhaps a connection with the threat looming over Capsule Corporation?_

"Great," Mrs. Chambers grinned toothily as she stood from her chair. "Once you have the story complete, we will create a contract, get it signed, and then we shall publish the story. I expect this to be done within three months time, else, you will be cut off. Understand?"

"Crystal clear," Bulma chuckled nervously, standing from her chair.

"Very well," Mrs. Chambers held out her bony, ring-covered hand with a grin. "It will be nice to begin working with you, Cyan."

Bulma smirked, her eyes lighting up. Nobody would ever know her true identity if she continued to keep this up. "Please," she said coolly, holding out her hand, "call me Blue."

* * *

"Get ready, get ready!" a stubby, overweight videographer exclaimed, raising his hand in the air as everyone scrambled to their rightful nooks. "We're starting in _five, four, three, two,_ " he pointed to the reporting duo, zooming in just a touch upon their smiling faces.

"Good evening, I'm Jack Robinson," the tall man welcomed, a grin upon his face as he swiveled slightly in his cushioned seat.

"And, hello, I'm Samantha Grisham, and we're here sitting here today to report devastating news about the well-known, and very famous, Capsule Corporation. Jack, would you mind taking us off?"

"Yes, it is very tragic indeed," Jack responded, feigning a frown as he nodded at Samantha's remark before looking back at the camera. "Within recent months, Ms. Bulma Brief has stepped down from her position as Vice President for the company, and claimed to have taken a break."

"However," Samantha piped in, her overly bronzed cheeks lifting due to her smirk. "It has been noticed by numerous allied companies, and citizens around the West City area that Ms. Brief has not been seen for a recorded three months."

Samantha flipped her long, dyed red curls over her shoulder, glancing down at her neatly piled papers. "There has been no file or recording of credit card use, bank account use, and there has been no sighting of the blue-haired heiress."

"Additionally," Jack chimed in, "her father has publicly claimed that he has no idea where his daughter may be, or anything about her whereabouts."

The female newsreporter chuckled airily, running a hand through her thick locks. "Not a surprise, truthfully. The genius may have fallen under the pressure of the business - or, she has escaped from the rumoured threat that is attacking the company."

"Oh yes," Jack nodded fervently, his fingers tightening around his white script. "The looming threat is unknown, however, it is believed to be a rivalling company, or an unknown company trying to undermine Capsule Corp. and have a complete take over."

The fake background with buildings behind them twinkled in the inky night sky; and dark, murky clouds loomed over the tall, fake skyscrapers, seemingly adding to the depressing news.

"Bulma Brief is a genius; rivalling with her own father's works, and has had high testing scores all throughout high school and college, and is an exceptional business woman, as testified by many other businessmen," Jack continued, his cheeks lifting. "She has also won many accomplishments, and was on her way to win a Nobel Peace Prize for her scientific breakthrough with heart virus medication before she unexpectedly disappeared."

"If and her future company are fortunate enough, she will no longer have to stay in hiding, and the company will not be known under a new man, and a new name," Samantha proclaimed, her lips pursing into a smile. "Speaking of heirs to large companies, Vegeta Ouji, CEO and heir to Ouji Enterprises has recently conducted another ruthless takeover of an emerging tech conglomerate."

Jack blinked dumbly for a split second before regaining his composure. "Wow, that's like, the third one this month, Samantha!"

"Yes, it's quite astonishing!" she sighed dreamily, imagining the flame-haired man in many different ways…

"Ah, yeah…" Jack chuckled, shaking his head before continuing. "At the mere age of twenty-eight, Junior has achieved multiple takeovers, alliances with other large corporations, and even the business of many citizens for his company's technology."

"My question is," Samantha interrupted, lazily resting her cheek within her palm. "Is he single?"

"Uh…" sweat dribbled down the side of Jack's face, and his mouth fell agape slightly. "Yes, I do believe Mr. Ouji is a ongoing bachelor…? Anyways, uhm, we will now be switching over to the weather, Ted, take us off!"

* * *

The television shut off with a swift click, the screen muting into a dark blackness. A deep, throaty chuckle resounded off of the thick walls of the room as the sound of a chair scraped against the wooden floor.

Brown, leather, wingtip Cole Haan's padded quietly against the cool surface below before abruptly stopping at the large window, arms crossed over his chest. His posture was immaculate; his head was held high, shoulders rolled forward, and back straight - he held himself as royalty, a prince.

The large glass wall perspired, beads of cool sweat rolling down the crystal as the night air warmed, the clouds along the skyline seemingly growing. It was bound to rain in this early summer night.

His pitless orbs swept across the city, observing their glimmering lights with a scowl, impatiently drumming his fingers along his bicep.

 _Those new reporters are imbeciles,_ he thought, his chest rumbling, _why even bring forth mention of the heiress, when nobody knew of her beforehand?_

It was true - there was not a substantial amount of information on the young woman, besides her fame and position within her father's company, of course. She was never mentioned within any educational system - save for her degrees, and people, including himself, knew little about her.

The flame-haired man's fingers dug into his upper arms, and his jaw muscles flexed with irritation. It irked him that there was so little about the Capsule Corporation heiress, considering he liked to know every fine detail on his rivals.

Perhaps, that was why she was never properly introduced to the public? Maybe, that was why she was able to leave her home, until their company's issues with current pre-takeover was diminished. She was not known, and people were not familiar with her - a perfect combination for hiding.

 _As for the information about me,_ he thought with a ' _hmph',_ a smirk gracing his lips, _I'd be lying if I claimed that it was not true._

Yes, it all was very true - he had conquered yet another small company to add to the collection of his trophy case, and another to the building of his father's vast empire. Many would like to state that he was ruthless and cruel.

He prefers honourable and merciful.

Simply put, he did not care, nor did he listen to anyone's opinions about him. He was a man of business, and he had shit to do besides listening to others voicing their opinions.

"Raditz!" he snapped, unmoving from his spot, tapping the pad of each fingertip along the fine linen of his suit, waiting.

"Yeah, Vegeta?" Raditz sighed, entering through the front door while cracking his neck. "You called?"

Vegeta glared thoughtfully at the long-haired man's vague reflection on the glass, his lips tugging upward ever so slightly. "You have a new assignment," his smooth, crackly voice rang throughout the room before a chuckle followed shortly after. "I want a new secretary."

Raditz rolled his eyes, a frown carving into his left cheek. "What?" he huffed, shutting the heavy, cherry wood door behind him. "You are already tired of the latest one?"

A smirk engulfed his lips, carving deeply into his smooth cheek. "Indeed," he rumbled, another short laugh bubbling from his chest. "She was not as satisfying as I hoped her to be," he stated, his orbs gleaming mischievously. "I want to see replacements lined up by tomorrow at noon."

The long haired assistant groaned, his eyelids fluttering shut. "You're insatiable!" he exclaimed, his eyelids reopening. "I swear, you're like a prince with a harem!"

"Women do tend to fawn over me, don't they?"

Raditz sighed, his lips pursing into a thin white line. "Something like that, yeah," he said while rubbing his tired eyes. "Wait until one rejects you, and we'll be the ones laughing."

"Tch, nobody refuses me, imbecile," Vegeta, his smirk never leaving. "I'm irresistible." He pivoted on his heel, facing Radditz and his head tilted slightly. "Just get the job done, I expect a line out the front door."

"Yes, your Highness," he snorted before releasing a loud huff. "Anything else?"

"Now that I think about it..."

"Oh screw off!" Radditz barked out a laugh, shaking his head. "It's past nine, and everyone has left. I'm done for the night. If you want someone to come to each of your beck and calls, ask Kakarot."

Vegeta shrugged, his face stoic. "Switch job positions then," he suggested carelessly, rolling his eyes as he shoved his hands into his trousers' pockets. He continued with dry sarcasm, "Kakarot is better at not questioning my motives anyways."

Raditz's eyes bucked and his mouth fell agape. "Are you serious?! Is that all I had to do?!"

"Yes," Vegeta stated dryly rolling his eyes, adding a moment of silence for a dramatic effect. A coy smirk slapped onto his face, as he continued, "As if I am stupid enough to put you as head of security! Get out, I'll see you, and the women tomorrow."

Raditz growled with annoyance as Vegeta turned his back toward him once more, gazing out the window. "You insufferable, royal pain in the ass," he muttered under his breath before stomping out of the doorway, slamming the entrance shut.

The flame-haired man chuckled deeply, his eyes shining with amusement. Tomorrow was another day to hunt and feast upon prey, and he would enjoy it, immensely.

* * *

 **Well, here it is...The Prince of Wall Street.**

 **I have to say, this whole story would not have been possible had I not received the idea from Gotrixisgreat99. He definitely cracked some jokes with me over the story's cover photo, and somehow, a simple idea spiraled from it all.**

 **One idea that ended up being so, so much more.**

 **If you have any questions, comments, or concerns, just drop me a review or PM - I am happy to reply.**

 **Thank-you, and cheers to a new story with a new beginning! Let's hope the B/V fandom will treat me well. xx**

 **R &R.**

 **Until next time!**


	2. Chapter 2

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing of Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z, or GT. I'm just a happy little camper (student) who writes in her free time, and hangs out with her dogs. Additionally, the cover photo is a photo I found from surfing on the internet and belongs to the rightful owner (whoever it may be)._**

 _ **Can you blame me? It was a sexy picture of Vegeta.**_

 ** _Beta: Myself._**

 _ **Posted: 8-28-15.**_

* * *

 _Hiding_ was not her ideal way of living life. But had she not been doing just that for the last twenty-seven years? Had her parents not only kept her locked up, but not show her to the public? Had she not herself decide not to be a part of the celebrity life?

A soft snort escaped her slim nose as she brought a white, ceramic mug to her lips, leaning back in the cushioned booth. Perhaps she had made a point to avoid people, but the more she thought about it, the less she thought highly about her decision.

"Then again," she muttered, placing the cup upon the table, wrapping her petite hands around it, "I am a genius with few of the same, intellectual, brain capacity."

What was she to do anyways? It was not as if she could take back the last twenty-seven years of her life and replace them with new memories. No. She would have to live now, and now was the perfect opportunity.

 _I'm finally free of Capsule Corporation business for a while,_ she thought, a light, warm feeling spreading throughout her chest. _I should enjoy it while I can._

Yes, she should enjoy it, but she did not know _how._

With all this freedom and all the possibilities, what was she supposed to accomplish? She had no friends, no co-workers, and no paparazzi. Simply put, she had nothing.

Quietly sighing, she tilted her head toward the window, watching as citizens hustled by, making their way to work most likely.

"Speaking of work…" she murmured, shaking her head at the thought. Of course she had almost been accepted to work at Wall Street, but no. She had to write another story - and not just any story - an article about Vegeta Ouji.

That was the last person whom she wanted to interact with. Despite not having much information on herself, or him, for that matter, she knew he was intelligent enough to figure out who she was. She knew he would see through her foolish facade and that he would call her out and publicly humiliate her.

"A little too late for that now," she sighed, her mood turning morose. If she was recognized by anyone - which, was highly unlikely - she would be humiliated and questioned for months.

She brought the mug of creamy coffee toward her chest, hugging it tightly as she watched the cherry blossom trees outside shake their buds toward the pavement below. Spring was near its end and summer was creeping upon the civilians within the Northern Hemisphere of the world.

 _Hopefully, by winter I will be back home and this mess at Capsule Corp. will be over,_ her mind whispered, a speck of hope aching within her chest cavity. Shaking her head at her foolish thoughts, she rested her cup atop the table, hunching over to glance at her murky reflection.

"You are Bulma Brief, damnit," she murmured, her brows furrowing together, causing a soft crease to form between them. "And you're going to make it through this, and you're going to write a damn good article without getting caught."

Lifting the mug to her lips for one last time, she drained the item of its bitter contents before standing with a newfound determination.

It was time to job search.

* * *

The colossal structure towered over the majority of other complexes, the triangular glass top gleaming in the burning sunlight. The tip of the building reached the top of the skyline, proudly standing above all other timber complexes as if the structure itself was a castle.

Her head was tilted back, her mouth open in awe as her eyes slowly dragged down to each window of each story. Even Capsule Corp. isn't this big, she thought silently, her eyes finally landing on the cursive, gold-lettered font of a sign saying: Ouji Enterprises.

The red-bricked building was a timeless fashion - elegant, magnificent, and classy, to say in the least. Her baby blue eyes finally rested upon the revolving doors, the glass encased by a toasty cedar.

"Shit," she whispered under her breath, biting her cheek nervously. What am I getting myself into?

Bulma shook her head, blinking her tired eyes.

No, it was too late to turn back now.

She bit the inside of her cheek harder, a heavy sigh escaping her nostrils. All she could hope for was a job.

Without another thought, her suede, pointed, grey heels clacked against the cobbled pathway to the revolving doors, leading Bulma to her most-feared doom…

* * *

"Come on, ladies! Stay back!" Raditz shouted over the lobby full of women, holding his arms wide. "Step back, step back!" He pressed a button up on his earpiece. "Kakarot, get your ass down here!" his voice rumbled into his bluetooth before redirecting his attention back toward the women. "Again, ladies, single file line!"

Sweat dribbled down the side of his cheek, his eyes frantically searching the crowd of women, wishing that they would listen. Why do I always get the shit end of the stick? he thought with a groan, his ears pricking up at heavy footsteps behind him.

"Hey, ladies!" a childish voice called out, a tall, dark-haired man stepping out. "Please, all of you will have a chance to be interviewed, but we will have to remove you from the premises if you do not listen!"

Almost immediately, the incessant chatter within the room ceased, and the women ogled at the man that stood before them.

 _"You have nice forearms!"_ a woman in the crowd squeaked, causing giggles to erupt throughout the room as the unruly-haired man's serious face turned into a look of pure embarrassment.

"Uh…" he blushed, rubbing the back of his neck nervously while glancing at his white sleeves that were rolled to his elbow. "Thank you?"

Raditz released a snort, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, ladies, please take a seat until noon! The interviews will not begin until then."

With murmurs of disappointment, the women slowly made their ways toward empty couches and chairs, their soft chatter starting up once more.

"Wow," the tall man beside Raditz marveled, "they didn't seem like trouble at all, I don't know why you needed help!"

The long haired man's eye twitched as he slapped a hand to his forehead. "Kakarot," he growled through clenched teeth. "You are an idiot! The women like you, you dumbass."

"Like me?" he blinked, a short laugh escaping him as he continued to scratch the nape of his neck. "What makes you think that?"

Raditz's hand slid down to his mouth, and his eyes narrowed into a glare. "You can't be serious?"

The man offered Raditz a cheesy grin, blinking his eyes cluelessly.

"Little brother, you are so stupid," Raditz grumbled under his breath, shaking his head as he glanced at the ceiling. "I can only hope the Kais will forgive mother and father for birthing such an idiot."

"Hey!" Goku pouted, crossing his arms stubbornly over his chest. "That's not nice! Mom and Dad love me!"

Raditz threw his head back and released a guffaw as a toothy grin appeared on his face. "Maybe mother, but certainly I'm father's favourite!"

"You are such a bully!" Goku fumed, his eyebrows furrowing as his lower lip stuck out farther. "You're never nice to me!"

"Aw, c'mon, kid," Raditz snickered, grabbing his brother and rubbing his knuckles across his scalp. "You've just graduated college, you're still a baby, and you're still fun to tease."

"And you're still mean," Goku deadpanned, squinting his eyes with a smile as Raditz ruffled his hair. He pushed his brother away teasingly, a goofy grin on his lips. "I swear, if I told mom she would be up in your gri-"

"Uhm, excuse me?"

The two brothers abruptly stopped their bickering, their eyes both locking onto a small, petite female below them. The duo gave each other a side glance, their jaws slacked slightly.

Goku audibly gulped while glancing down at the woman shorter than him, a blush tinted his cheeks and instinctively, he raised a hand to the nape of his neck. "Uh...hiya!" he greeted with a slight wave, his cheeks burning a darker shade of crimson as her sky blue eyes dragged toward his swampy brown.

"Hi," she greeted with a smile, brushing her loose side bangs behind one ear. "I was uh, wondering if there were any job openings?"

Again, the two Son brothers looked at each other, back at her, and then back at each other. In that split second, they both came to two different realizations, although they thought it was the same one.

Raditz smirked, kindly holding out his hand to shake. "Yes. In fact, we do," he stated politely as the blue-haired woman firmly shook his hand. His smirk grew wider. Vegeta would like this one. " is seeking out a new secretary, and as long as you have a resume, I would say you're ready to go."

Gosh, she's so pretty, Goku thought in awe, his eyes gleaming over with a warm, friendly glint. However, at the mention of Vegeta, Goku's heart sunk and he cringed slightly. Oh, yes, Vegeta…

"Really?" she questioned, her smile faltering slightly. Shit, way to try to go unnoticed, Bulma! "There are no other openings?"

"Nope!" Goku chirped, shooting her a grin. He quickly glanced at Raditz before continuing, "You could always come back another day, I'm sure there'll be openings for other offices and such."

Raditz shot his brother a glare, his nose crinkling in frustration. What an idiot! Doesn't he realize that Vegeta will like this one?! Feigning a broad smile, Raditz shook his head frantically. "Why would you not want this proposition? It is an excellent job and not that difficult in reality. You also get the best view in the building." He winked, slapping his brother's back hard as punishment.

"Well…" Bulma cupped her chin thoughtfully, biting her lower lip. If she was going to get the best article, it would be by being his secretary. Besides, it was not as if any people had recognized her so far, anyways. Bulma looked back at Raditz with a small smile and a nod. "Alright. What do I have to do?"

"Write your name on the signup sheet near over there," Raditz pointed at the cedar desk across the room, "and you will be called up when we're ready. By the way," he asked, a small smirk on his face, "what is your name?"

"I'm B-" she began, her eyes widening as she snapped her mouth shut. She laughed nervously, glancing at the ground.

"B…?" Goku and Raditz inquired at the same time, confused.

"I'm Cyan," she corrected, running a trembling hand through her hair as she looked back up at both men. "People call me Blue sometimes because, well, you know." She laughed quietly, pointing toward her oceanic colored locks.

"Ah, makes sense." Raditz nodded. "I'm Raditz, and this is my younger brother, Kakarot."

"Goku!" he whined, hitting Raditz's shoulder slightly. "Everyone screws Kakarot up."

Bulma giggled into her hand slightly, her eyes shining with amusement. "Alright, Raditz and Goku." She grinned, nodding her head. "I need to get signed up so I will see you two later." She saluted with two fingers before sauntering her way over toward the front desk.

"Hot damn," Raditz breathed out, waving his hand. "Vegeta will _so_ be giving me a raise."

Goku sighed, crossing his arms over his chest as his swampy eyes followed Bulma's retreating form. "Yeah, I guess," he mumbled, his chest tightening. Hopefully, Vegeta would not break her like the others. After all, she seemed...different.

* * *

Two hours had slowly ticked by and she drummed her fingers on her leather-bound briefcase, her patience slowly beginning to die out.

A soft sigh emitted from Bulma's lips and she leaned back comfortably within the creamy, plush sofa. She glanced around the room and pursed her lips before biting her lower plump one nervously.

She was the only one left.

The elevator dinged loudly, echoing throughout the room. Bulma watched the doors slide open and witnessed yet another woman run out, tears dribbling down her cheeks as she sniffled loudly. The woman shot her a glance before rushing past her and out of the building.

"Huh," Bulma murmured, her eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion. Was the interviewer that horrible of a person?

"Cyan Noall," a deep voice rumbled, catching Bulma's attention as her eyes locked onto a tall, bald man with a mustache. "You are next."

Bulma nodded and stood, her heels clicking quietly along the tiled flooring of the lobby and toward the elevator.

The tall man's arm was outstretched in order to keep the door open, and once she walked in, he brought his arm in before pressing the last number on the elevator.

Why had the man pressed for the forty-second floor? Silence filled the tiny, enclosed room, and Bulma brushed her hands along the fabric of her dress, removing the wrinkles. Her eyes were focused on the lit up number thoughtfully. A few seconds later, her heart plummeted to the pits of her stomach.

 _Oh no,_ she thought with widened eyes. _Vegeta is my interviewer._

With a gulp and hopes in order to alleviate her worry, she spoke. "Do most women cry after leaving their interviews here?"

The tall man released an amused chuckle, a slight smirk on his face as he turned toward Bulma. "Many do."

Bulma gave a disapproving snort, rolling her eyes as she mumbled, "Pathetic…"

The man's mouth twitched upward at her statement, his heart swelling as he folded his hands behind him, clipboard within his left. Raditz was right, Vegeta would like this one. "Confidence is key, Ms. Noall."

"Trust me," she laughed as the carriage came to a stop, "I have _plenty."_

That ended their conversation, and Nappa stepped out, Bulma following closely behind him. Her eyes looked toward the ceiling in awe, admiring the glass the encased the building. The sun burned her eyes as its bright rays dripped through the crystal, each ray winking at her as they took a left down a corridor. She refocused as they walked wordlessly, her heels being the only source of noise between them.

Finally, the stopped abruptly before a dark cherry door, Nappa knocking softly.

"Come in," a deep, gravelly voice commanded sternly from the other side, causing Bulma to look at Nappa confusedly.

He nodded toward the door, and she sighed, her small fingers clasping the handle. With another second of quick self-reassurance, she opened the door.

* * *

 _Click._

 _Click._

 _Click._

Vegeta sighed, his eyes intently focused on the papers upon his desk as he scrawled approvals and disapprovals upon each proposal. His ears twitched as her heels clacked against the floor, stopping by the chair in front of his desk. The legs of the seat scraped against the ground, and the woman seated herself quietly as she rested a briefcase beside her chair.

A soft snort escaped him as he inwardly rolled his eyes, a scowl on his face due to the last female. She'll be like the others, he thought, his scowl carving deeper into his cheek as he flipped to a new sheet of paper, scrawling his name upon it.

Bulma bit her lower lip as she watched him intently focused upon his work, deciding not to disturb him. She knew what it was like being disturbed in the office, and it was infuriating. She squirmed in her seat slightly before reaching a place of comfort while pulling her mid-back length hair to one side.

Vegeta paused his writing, as the corner of his eye caught a flicker of blue. A few seconds later, he forced his fingers to move, and he finished his signature before clicking the top of his pen. Silently, he grabbed his paperwork and tapped it against the desk to straighten it out before placing it to the right of him, the pen resting atop the white sheets.

Slowly, he dragged his orbs from the paper, to the woman in front of him, and a dry lump formed in his throat.

She wore a grey, knee length dress with a square cut dipping below her collarbone. A small chain and pendant wrapped around her neck, bringing attention to her upper chest. Her posture was immaculate; her back was straight, ankles crossed, and her head was held high and confident.

His pitless irises met her baby blues, and an immediate connection formed, causing her to part her plump lips slightly.

She politely cleared her throat, covering her mouth as she did. However, his focus was upon the way her throat moved behind her neck…

"Would you like my resume?"

His eyes flickered back to hers, and he raised a single brow.

"Wou-"

"No," he stated crisply, his eyebrow lowering once more to match its twin. "I do not hire a person based off of their accomplishments."

"Oh," she breathed out, blinking. "Alright, what's your first question, Mr. Ouji?"

A smirk threatened to tug his lips as he leaned forward, resting his forearms across his mahogany desk. "What are your...interests?" he ventured, his brow raising inquisitively for the second time.

Bulma pursed her lips, her eyes narrowing in suspicion slightly. What an odd question...she thought, drumming her well-manicured left fingers along her thigh. "Reading," she offered, thoughtfully biting her lower lip. "Essentially, learning."

This piqued Vegeta's interests, and the small smirk he held back engulfed his mouth. "Learning? What of?" he questioned, his eyes intently focused on her teeth biting her blushing flesh.

"Science or technology, sir," she stated with a small shrug, her eyes focusing on his. "What about you, Mr. Ouji?"

His orbs flickered from her lips to her eyes, his smirk never leaving. "Me?" he echoed, a quiet chuckle rumbling from his chest. "I've never been questioned before, Ms. Noall."

"As they say, curiosity kills the cat, Mr. Ouji."

"Hn. Well," he chuckled again, causing her tummy to stir at the deep sound. "I like learning of people, and their ways of living. People are interesting, and I enjoy learning _every_ detail about them."

Bulma's brows furrowed ever so slightly. _Did he just...? Oh yes, he did. I'll find out with his next question._

"What do you think about my company?" he continued, lifting a hand, waving around the room.

"I think it's very classy, and built upon a good foundation of workers and employers," she started, brushing her fingers through her hair. "I also think it's very well... _endowed_."

Vegeta's eyes shone with amusement for a split second before fading into his dark orbs. Did she just challenge me at my own game? "Very well," his smirk grew wider, "how _flexible_ can you be in this...position?"

Bulma leaned over his desk, her pursed lips turning into a small smirk. "I don't appreciate your hidden innuendos, Vegeta," she breathed, the pronunciation of the _'t'_ sounding more like a ' _d'._ "They are very...demoralizing."

"Hn. Really?" he breathed, a dark chuckle fleeing his tawny-colored lips. "Something tells me that you will continue because you are very talented at this...shall we say, mind game? You want to beat me," his smirk curled over his teeth, and his eyes twinkled mischievously. "Unfortunately for you, you shall not."

"Oh?" she breathed, her eyes challenging his as she leaned in closer, their faces centimeters away from the other. "And why not?"

"Because, Ms. Noall, I determine whether you receive this job. Now, again, I ask you," his eyes met hers, "how flexible are you for this position?"

A soft chortle escaped her lips, and her smirk altered into a sultry smile. " _Very_ flexible, Mr. Ouji," she purred before leaning back into her seat, a single brow raised, daring him to continue.

The ebony haired man almost allowed his facade to slip with a grin, but he decided against it, and regained his composure as he leaned back in his chair. "In order to be my secretary, you will be dealing with numerous clients, rivals, allies, and myself, of course," he rattled off, interlacing his fingers while resting his elbows on the leather armrests. "Tell me, how articulate are your oral skills?"

Bulma raised her brows, pursing her lips as she purposefully poked her tongue at her cheek with a shrug. "Depends," she replied while innocently batting her long lashes. "It especially depends on the person, and if they're willing to cooperate. Especially men. They can just get so... _cocky_."

Desire stirred ferociously in the pit of Vegeta's stomach, wave after wave crashing the front of his lower abdomen. "Hn. On the contrary, men who are cocky tend to have a reason to be."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes," he smirked, resting his head against his chair. "They were gifted with entitlement as young, and grow to be endowed with many other things."

"Interesting point, Mr. Ouji." Bulma cupped her chin thoughtfully, biting her lower lip to prevent her smile. Finally, someone to battle my wits! she cheered inwardly before nodding. "Next question, please."

"Why do you wish to work here?"

To get a story article on you. "Your company was built on an excellent foundation, and is a fantastic distributor of technology goods, and I would like to be apart of such a great...empire, if you will."

Vegeta chuckled, shaking his head at her reply. "Clever answer, Ms. Noall." His lips twitched into a confident smirk. "However, empires fall, and my company shall not."

"That is very confident of you to think," she noted, a single blue brow quirked slightly.

"Confidence is key," he chuckled, leaning on his desk once more. "You appear to have a backbone."

Bulma's eyes lit up as she leaned forward on his desk for the second time that day. "Indeed, I like challenges," she breathed, her orbs staring into his.

"Hn," his upper lip curled over his teeth, flashing her a coy grin. "I expect you here tomorrow morning, eight sharp."

Bulma blinked, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. "What?"

"Tomorrow morning," he repeated, sliding his paperwork in front of him once more, picking up his pen. "I expect you to have your things moved in, and I expect you to begin at dawn."

The undercover heiress smiled brightly, jumping from her seat as she did. "Great," she laughed quietly, amusement shining in her eyes. "I will dismiss myself then, and see you in the morn'." She grabbed her suitcase, pivoting on her heel as she made her way to the door. "By the way," she piped up, hand upon the brass knob, "thank you, Vegeta." She winked before disappearing into the hallways.

Vegeta rubbed his lips together, a tremor of excitement rolling down the vertebrae of his spine. Oh, she was going to be a good catch.

* * *

Goku sighed as he pulled to the front of the Ouji Enterprises, parallel parking a sleek, black Bentley beside the cobbled sidewalk. He waited a few moments patiently, the fingers of his left hand drumming against the leather-covered steering wheel as his other hand gently clutched the stick shift.

"C'mon," he murmured quietly to himself, eyes glancing in his rearview mirror to watch traffic speed by him. Rain droplets splattered across his windshield, and his left hand flicked on the wipers, his swampy orbs watching as the rain was casted off the glass.

His large ears twitched as the car door opened before getting slammed shut. A sigh emitted from the man beside him in the passenger seat, and he glanced at his ebony-haired companion.

"Long day?" Goku chirped, a grin on his face at Vegeta's glare.

"Just do what you're paid to do and drive me home."

"Eh, something like that," Goku laughed quietly as he turned on his blinker before pulling out.

The flame-haired man beside him narrowed his eyes in suspicion, a scowl engulfing his lips. "You're not taking me home, are you?"

Goku hummed happily, his grin never fled his lips.

"Goddamnit, Kakarot! Where the hell are you taking me? It's eleven o'clock. Take me home, damnit!"

"Nah, I'ma take you to the bar, best buddy!" the goofy twenty year old chirped, smiling brightly.

A disgusted growl rumbled from Vegeta's chest, and he sneered. "We are not best buddies," he snapped, eye twitching in irritation.

"Okay, best..-"

Another growl from Vegeta cut him off, as did a warning glare, but Goku finished with a smirk.

"...friend."

"Go to hell, Kakarot!"

Goku threw his head back, and released joyous laughter as Vegeta huffed, reclining his seat as Goku sped up, speeding toward his destination.

* * *

Vegeta leaned his head back against the plastic covered cushioned of the booth, closing his eyes with an irritated sigh. "Goddamn Kakarot, inviting his idiotic brother and fucking Nappa," he muttered, tipping his crystal glass of whiskey down his lips, the liquid burning the back of his esophagus.

He rested the glass upon the shining wooden table, his fingers wrapping around the dark brown bottle of whiskey as he poured himself another drink. To the hopeful demise of my father, he thought with a snort, raising his glass to himself before taking another swig.

He had been distant lately, most likely due to finding a new prospect for him to conquer. "He needs to stay out of my damn business," he muttered, shaking his head with disgust.

Ever since he was a child, his father seemingly grew more distant over the years, pushing his own son away due to the loss of his wife, and mother, of his children.

"Fucking disgrace," he muttered, blinking rapidly as the strobe lights of the club blurred together, and the blaring music slowly faded.

A blue light flashed across the dance floor, toward his table, and back to the dance floor, causing his heart to thump an extra beat against his chest. The color was like her hair and her eyes. A small smirk curled onto his lips and he chortled quietly.

She was certainly a catch - she was smart, witty, funny. And, to top it off, she was beautiful.

Vegeta blinked again, a frown replacing his smirk. Where the hell was he getting these thoughts? A snort escaped him as he shook his head, taking another sip of his drink. She was just another one of the many women lined up, that was all. He wanted no strings attached, and he wanted an emotionless relationship.

Just another to add to the many he has always had and will always develop.

However, she was perfect with her creamy complexion and long, smooth legs that he could imagine sliding in between…

He took another swig of the tastebud-searing alcohol and shook his head, eyes scanning the crowd before landing on a curvaceous female strutting toward him.

"Hey there, handsome," she sultrily smiled, twirling her glass in her fingers. "What's your name?"

She was decent looking, Vegeta would admit, but he was not interested. "Go somewhere else if you're looking for a night of fun," he scoffed, downing the rest of his drink as a horrified look bedazzled her face.

"Excuse me?!"

"You heard me," he drawled, swirling the liquor within his glass, "not interested." _Because I have my sights set upon a different female,_ his fuzzy conscience whispered, causing him to shake his head.

The woman scoffed, crossing her arms beneath her well-equipped bust. "Whatever, jerk! You lost a good opportunity!"

"Woah, woah, woah," a husky, slurred voice chimed in, a man sliding beside the voluptuous woman. "What's going on here pretty lady? Did my friend offend you, here?" he questioned, shooting a small glare at Vegeta.

"Screw off, Raditz!" Vegeta snapped, sneering in disgust at the display.

"Oh, so he just treats everyone like this?!" the female shrieked, rolling her eyes. "Of course, what an ass!"

"It's alright pretty lady, I'm here now," Raditz gave her a toothy grin, holding his arms wide open, causing the female to blink.

"Well…" she began softly, her eyes shimmering with conflicting emotions before she smiled. "Okay! Do you have other friends? I have a friend who needs some comfort, too!" she stated, turning her back toward Vegeta as she wrapped her arm around Raditz's bicep.

"Of course, I have the perfect person in mind!" he chirped with a shit-eating grin. It's about time Kakarot got out!

"Great! Let's go!" she squealed, pulling Raditz away from the table.

Raditz turned to glance at Vegeta before giving him a wink, and slinking away with the red-headed female.

Vegeta huffed as he leaned back against his seat with a small _'oof'._ "Good riddance," he muttered under his breath, closing his eyes before swearing loudly at the flicker of blue the danced behind his covered vision. Why did he have so much interest in her?!

A growl erupted from his chest, and he snatched his phone off of his table before dialing a number for a driver. He needed to get home before he got any more drunk, and knowing the idiots he was dragged along with, they were all drunk by now as well.

 _It does not matter,_ he thought with a smirk as his phone rang. _Once she is out of my system, things will continue as if they were normal._

* * *

 ** _Well, what did you guys think? I apologize for the over-usage of italics in this chapter, but I felt that it was needed. Anyways, I would like to make it clear right here, right now that updates on this story will not be rapid nor consistent until further notice. I do not really want to be posting further chapters without being farther ahead with the story._**

 **I have to say, this whole story would not have been possible had I not received the idea from Gotrixisgreat99. He definitely cracked some jokes with me over the story's cover photo, and somehow, a simple idea spiraled from it all.**

 **One idea that ended up being so, so much more to the point where I could not stop writing.**

 **If you have any questions, comments, or concerns, leave it in a review or PM me. Thank-you!**

 ** _Until next time!_**

 ** _DoV xx_**


	3. Chapter 3

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing of Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z, or GT. I'm just a happy little camper (student) who writes in her free time, and hangs out with her dogs. Additionally, the cover photo is a photo I found from surfing on the internet and belongs to the rightful owner (whoever it may be)._**

 _ **Can you blame me? It was a sexy picture of Vegeta.**_

 ** _Beta: Myself._**

 _ **Posted: 8-28-15.**_

* * *

"Shit, shit shit!" Bulma shrieked in different ranges of decibels, hopping on one foot as she pulled on one shoe on her petite foot. "I'm going to be late!"

* * *

Loud banging resounded throughout Vegeta's house as he groaned with irritation, pulling a plush couch pillow over his ears. "GO AWAY!" he yelled, his head pulsing with each thump and knock made on his front door.

It was too goddamned early.

* * *

"Oh fuck this," Raditz muttered on the other side, shaking his head. "Kakarot, the key?"

A small jingle was emitted from Goku's suit pocket as his fingers wrapped around metal loop containing keys, before throwing them toward his brother. "You would think 'Geta'd be up by now!"

"Eh," Raditz shrugged, shoving the key into the lock. "What can I say? A guy needs a break every now and then."

* * *

"Oh no, no, no," she whined, raking her fingers through her disheveled hair, frowning her appearance in her rearview mirror. "I'm even going to have to do my make up in the parking lot when I get there," she huffed, shoving the keys into the ignition.

* * *

"Couldn't even make it to the bed?" Raditz snickered, jabbing Vegeta hard on his side. "Come on, Mr. President, the company needs you."

"Goddamnit all to hell," came Vegeta's muffled response as he turned on his side, back facing the two brothers. "Get Tarble to put his ass in gear and take care of things today."

"Aw," Goku whined, holding a wire hanger high in the air. "But _Vegeta_ ," he stressed, his lower lip sticking out and glistening in the room's light as his head hung in disappointment. He shook plastic covered clothing, bouncing up and down like a petulant child. "I even picked up your suit from the dry cleaners!"

"Shut up, Kakarot," Vegeta spat, covering his face with his forearms, groaning as another searing pain shot through his skull. Could he not receive peace for more than five minutes? He growled lowly, his chest vibrating as he added gruffly, "And, get the hell out."

"Tch, well, let's go, Kakarot," Raditz said in a sing-song voice, turning on his heel. "I guess Tarble'll just have to keep Cyan entertained today!"

 _Oh hell no._

"Kakarot," Vegeta began calmly, eye twitching in annoyance as he refrained himself from yelling at the clown's clever older brother, "place the suit down, and give me ten minutes."

* * *

A small, cantankerous red Mini-Cooper trudged along the busy intersection of downtown East City, fume clouds visibly releasing from the exhaust pipe.

"I need to fix that," she muttered under her breath as she turned her wheel, parallel parking alongside the curb of the sidewalk. She glanced in the mirror at her ragged appearance, a scowl on her face as she muttered, "among other things."

Bulma's slim fingers snatched her makeup bag from the beat up seat, and zipped open the sack with ambition. Her gaze flickered back to her reflection as she pulled out eyelid primer. "Okay," she whispered with feigned confidence, "first the eyes, and then the lips. No time for anything else."

* * *

Her knuckles gently knocked on the heavy wooden door, awaiting for a reply.

Silence.

With furrowed brows, she knocked once more. Was he out at a meeting? Perhaps he was late himself? _Oh, that hypocritical, egotistical prick, I swear, if he's late…_

She knocked once more, preparing to open her mouth and exclaim her presence just as the door flew open. "Eek!" she shrieked, losing balance on her red suede heels and slipping forward. With her eyes shut tightly, she prepared for a hard, and agonizing landing until she fell into something soft.

 _Floors aren't soft,_ Bulma thought with confusion as she peeped open one eye. "Oh, sorry!" she spluttered, jolting, pulling away from a short-haired man's arms, running a hand through her wavy locks.

The man in front of her was short and lean, with thick, spiky jet black hair. He wore a black suit with a blue tie to match, and a friendly smile. Behind his coal colored eyes, however, was a gleam of distant amusement.

"It's alright," he spoke smoothly, nodding his head in acceptance of her apology. "However, may I ask who you might be?"

"Oh, I uh…" she stammered, blinking as she stared dumbly at the man before her. He looks oddly familiar...she thought with a frown, crossing her arms uncomfortably as she snapped haughtily: "I should be asking you the same thing, considering you're in my boss's office."

A chuckle escaped his chest and the corner of his mouth quirked into a faint smirk as he offered her a hand. _Another one already, eh, Vegeta?_ "I'm Tarble, your boss's brother."

 _Shit!_ Bulma swore internally, cringing as she laughed nervously. _I cannot believe I just practically interrogated him without knowing who he was...idiot, Bulma, idiot!_ Feigning a bright smile as she graciously took his hand. "Nice to meet you, Tarble. I'm Cyan, Mr. Ouji's new secretary."

"I could have only guessed," he joked with a dry laugh. "He can't seem to keep one that does everything he wants done."

 _Yeah, geez, I wonder why,_ the heiress thought with a twitching eye before giving an innocent shrug. "Maybe I'll be able to accomplish his needs with a little bit of help!" _As if._

 _Well, I can already tell that he is interested in her based off of appearance._ Tarble snickered inwardly as he eyed the curve of her rear in her black slacks, along with the amount of cleavage appearing beneath her sheer, black blouse. _Oh yeah, I can definitely see the attraction, he offered her a slanted smile as an uncomfortable bulge formed within his trousers, and because Vegeta's not here…_

"So," Bulma drawled, snapping the younger brother from his thoughts. "Why are you here today?"

Tarble tutted, shaking his head. "I'm here everyday," he corrected, his eyes gleaming with a hint of lust, "but, I'm stuck in here until Vegeta returns from a little...trip."

"Ah," Bulma nodded, crossing her arms beneath her bosom as she glanced around the room, her eyes landing on a glass wall separating from Vegeta's office, into a smaller room. Her nose wrinkled with confusion, "What's that room for?"

"Hm?" Tarble blinked, cocking his head to the side as he followed the direction of her pointed, red polished fingernail. "That's your office, Ms. Noall. Makes trips easier for Vegeta because he's old."

Bulma gasped, her heart wrenching within her chest. She audibly gulped, and cursed the Kais above, and damned them to hell as she swore loudly. "Oops!" she slapped a petite hand to her lips, blushing furiously as giddy laughter bubbled from her lips. "My bad!" Bulma apologized through the gaps of her fingers, taking a step away from Tarble. "Uh...Vegeta does seem quite immobilized at some times - how old is he again?"

"He's old enough that he'll need a walker one of these days," he snickered, his cheeks lifting as he glanced at her face. _Kami, she is one helluva catch. O-_

"-..r maybe he'll prefer a cane to beat the shit out of you," a snarl emitted off the glass ceiling. Bulma squeked as she and Tarble jumped in surprise as they whipped around to face a grumpy, flame-haired man.

 _Oh, shit. Not good,_ Tarble thought frantically, attempting to prevent his face from twitching under his brother's penetrating glare. He adjusted his tie as he cleared his throat. "I will take my leave, then," he nodded, walking toward the door before Vegeta grabbed his shoulder roughly, stopping him.

The oldest Ouji directed his stony gaze toward Bulma, his frown carving deeply into his left cheek. He glanced at the small box that she held against one hip, and he nodded toward her office with a sneer. "Get situated."

Bulma's lips parted slightly as she looked at both brothers, gulping as she turned away, stumbling toward her new work space.

Vegeta yanked Tarble's ear toward his lips, hissing lowly. "She's off limits. Understand?"

The younger brother nodded weakly, and Vegeta released him as their gaze locked with the other's. "Get out," Vegeta snapped, and Tarble jolted slightly, nodding before he swiftly exited the room.

The hotheaded man stomped toward Bulma's office, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. _How dare Tarble interfere with my trophy?!_ He crossed his arms over his chest, glowering at her as she placed items from her box, onto the desk. _She's mine for the taking - only for me to conquer and toss out._

His nose wrinkled with displeasure as he scowled, his fingers clawing into his biceps. "Ms. Noall," he began, causing her to freeze her actions, and raise her jittery eyes toward his. "I believe we have a misunderstanding."

Bulma's mouth formed a small _'o'_ before she barked a small laugh of disbelief. _A misunderstanding?!_ she thought with a scoff, dropping her items onto the desk with a clatter in order to cross her arms beneath her bust. _He cannot be serious. I haven't even been here for ten minutes!_ "And, what would that be, _Mr. Ouji?_ "

Vegeta's thin upper lip curled over his pearly whites. "You are here to do one thing: your _job,_ " he stated firmly, resting his hands on her desk as he leaned forward. His heated gaze clashed with the flames dancing within her eyes as he growled, "My younger brother does not concern you, whether I'm here, or not. You work for me, and me alone."

Bulma's plump lower lip parted from its counterpart as she narrowed her eyes into icy slits. His orbs were dark, and full of mysteries that the inner scientist within her wanted to take apart, solve...

 _Where is this sudden feeling coming from?_ she thought, shaking her head with bewilderment. She is definitely not interested in him, right? Huffing, she forced her lips to quirk into a smile, lifting her chin high and proud. "Understood, Vegeta."

"Hn," he broke their connection with a snort, slapping down a large pile of documents upon her desk. "File these," he pointed toward a large, metal filing cabinet. "Document them on the computer system first."

"Wha-" she shrieked as he swivelled on his heel, already leaving the room. He could not possibly be serious?! Her eyes widened "I don't know how to work the computer system yet!"

A deep, husky chuckle slipped past his throat as he tutted, shrugging carelessly. "Figure it out."

Her lower jaw fell from its counterpart as she stared at his retreating form. A frustrated snort escaped her, followed by a shriek as her fingers flew into her hair. She slumped into her rolly chair with a miserable moan, glaring at the workload she received. What a way to start her first day of work…

* * *

Vegeta's eye twitched as he drummed the tips of his calloused fingers atop his mahogany desk, anger twitching deep inside him. The small conglomerates drove him wild - they always bitched about them being taken over and swallowed whole by the Ouji empire.

Snorting, Vegeta shook his head with a scowl. The fools should not leave their companies so vulnerable if they do not wish to continue existing.

He held the corded office phone loosely against his shoulder, pressing against his ear and smooth cheek. Murmurs of complaints emitted from the speaker, and with the more issues the company had, the more self-control he lost.

All in all, he was not a patient man.

Bulma strutted into his room, wearing a victorious smirk as she slapped down the slab of papers directly in front of him, crossing her arms with raised brows almost saying: _"How do you like them apples, jackass?"_

Vegeta grunted, unimpressed. A typical scowl molded his lips as he rubbed his red eyes, irritated.

"I don't have time for this!" he growled into the phone, causing the person on the other line to cease their jabbering. "It is your company's fault that it has shattered to pieces. I am merely the man who decided to pick them up, and merge them within my own company. I have more important work to finish, then to sit here, and listen to your fuc-"

A millisecond later, he was phoneless before he could finish his sentence, and Bulma had it firmly gripped within the palm of her hand. "Hello!" she chirped, twiddling with the wire cord in her free hand as she rested her rear on the edge of Vegeta's desk, glaring at her boss. "I'm Mr. Ouji's secretary, Ms. Noall. I'd like to apologize in advance for Mr. Ouji. He is a very busy man, so I will be taking this phone call from here."

Vegeta snarled, his fingers digging into the arms of his chair as he leaned forward toward Bulma. How dare she swipe the phone from him?! She possessed no right! Appalled, his eyes narrowed as he rose a hand to her forearm, gripping it tightly.

Silent murmurs could be heard from the other end of the connection, and Bulma nodded along, attempting not to hiss through the gaps of her teeth. "Ah, yes," she gritted, struggling against Vegeta's bruising grasp, "I am afraid that there is nothing to be done about your unfortunate situation. Ouji Enterprises wishes you the best of luck."

Wordlessly, Bulma pressed a small black button on the phone before returning it to its cradle. She yelped, twisting her arm within his grasp. "What the hell's your problem?! Let me go!"

A snarl escaped his lips, and in turn, she flinched. "You have surpassed the line of your limited boundaries, _Ms. Noall_ ," he grounded, his eyes boring into hers. "Do not cross them again."

"Geez, I was just doing you a favour before you...I don't know, ruined your _pristine_ reputation," she snapped, swatting at his hand with flaring nostrils. "Let me go," she seethed, squirming within his hold. "You have no right to _touch_ me! _You_ are now the one crossing the boundaries, Mr. Ouji."

A low, menacing growl vibrated his chest, the corners of his eyes crinkling with mirth. Swiping the papers she carelessly placed on his desk, and scanned the pages only to realize by the looks of her sloppy cursive, she did exceptionally well for her first day.

His dark gaze averted from her papers, to another stack scattered across his desk. His exchanged stacks, shoving the new work beneath her nose as he released her forearm. "Finish these."

She scowled, rubbing her slightly bruising forearm with a wince. Obviously, she needed to remain cautious around Vegeta Ouji, Junior. Huffing, she took a step backward from him before glancing at the brass clock near the entryway to his office. It read four o'clock. "Isn't it a little late in the afternoon to be doing another bunch?"

Vegeta snorted. "Is there an issue, Ms. Noall?"

She trembled with fury as she stopped rubbing her arm, frowning. "Of course not Mr. Ouji," she snipped, grabbing the documents from him forcefully, offering him a tight-lipped smile. "Anything else?"

"No."

Without another another word, she stormed back to her office, inwardly cursing the Kai for working for such an ass.

Vegeta sighed, placing his face within his hands, closing his eyes. The woman was a nuisance - his hangover did not assist in his sour mood - and a liability. She rattled his mind, fogging it over with intense lust that he did not know that he could feel. At times, she portrayed herself as a submissive, and others, she played the seductress. He had several secretaries before, but none of them made him burn with desire the way she did.

Bringing his hands to his face, Vegeta sighed heavily, shaking his head. One week. He would allow her one more week to submit to his desires before he would cast her away.

Unluckily for him, Vegeta could only secretly hope that she found interest within him.

* * *

Warm and inviting red walls surrounded two small females as they sat in black metal chairs, their mugs resting upon a polished chestnut tabletop.

The strong, bitter aroma of ground coffee filled the air, soaking into each customer's clothes as they sat within the small area. The loud grinder buzzed and clanked as three, sweaty baristas quickly made delectable drinks, hurrying orders for their customers.

As soft murmurs of small talk floated within the chipper atmosphere, in the corner table, a morose, Capsule Corporation heiress sat with a frown.

Releasing a soft sigh, Bulma rubbed her tired eyes, and shook her head. "I don't know what to do," she whispered, her sunken eyes meeting ebony orbs. "I mean, I never, ever even woke up this early before!"

"Well," the woman with a high bun chuckled into her mug, taking a sip and swallowing. "You do look like shit on a good day, B."

"Thanks, Chi," Bulma deadpanned, rolling her eyes before resting her elbows upon the table. She rested her cheeks within her palms, deep in thought.

Chi-Chi released a laugh, her cheeks lifting as she shook her head. "Hey, I'm sorry, Bulma," she said gently, reaching for her friend's hand and squeezing it lightly. "I know this isn't easy for you out here. Have you spoken with your father?"

"No."

Chi-Chi's mouth fell agape as she spluttered, "Why not?!"

" _Hush,_ I can't be found out!" Bulma hissed in a whisper as heads turned toward them, only when they looked away disinterestedly did Bulma continue. "I don't need to be used as a leverage for my father to release the company if this person who is trying to take over is as bad as I think they are!"

"Who is it?"

"I have no idea," Bulma sighed, slumping in her chair as she ran a hand through her long locks. She shook her head with a forced smile before covering her face with her hands, laughing. "I have no idea, and I sound crazy!"

"You're not crazy." Chi-Chi shook her head, frowning as her hands tightened around her ceramic glass. "What have you been doing for money? The news has been trying to get anything they can on you - it's a good thing you weren't publicly broadcasted while growing up!"

"Well, I got interviewed at Wall Street by the co-editor, and she's very interested," Bulma began, causing Chi-Chi's brows to raise with interest as she began to sip from her coffee, "...but she wanted a new story about Vegeta Ouji Junior, so now I'm his assistant."

Black liquid spewed from Chi-Chi's ruby lips as she spluttered, coughing while choking on air. "I take it back," she wheezed, shaking her head as she quickly nabbed a handful of napkins, "you're _insane_!"

A lazy, cheshire grin sprawled across the heiress' lips as she nodded in agreement. "I guess that's why you're my only friend," she teased, only to receive a heavy sigh and a roll of ebony eyes in response. "But, on a serious note, he's hitting on me."

"Who? The great heir of Ouji Enterprises that looks like a porcupine?" Chi-Chi's nose scrunched in distaste as she stuck out her tongue. "Gross."

Bulma released a snort of laughter, her cheeks lifting. "Porcupine?"

"Oh, _puh-lease_ ," Chi-Chi rolled her eyes, leaning back in her chair. "Have you seen that hair? He could be a hedgehog as well."

"Nah, that'd be Raditz, his assistant."

Chi-Chi raised an inquisitive brow, a smirk teasing the corners of her mouth. "And that would be…?"

"Stop, Chi," Bulma giggled, shaking her head as she bit her lower lip. "But, seriously. He's flirted with me and everything of the like! It's a good thing I got him back last night…"

"You got him back?" Chi-Chi deadpanned, her forehead wrinkling in surprise as her perfectly shaped eyebrows lifted. "Are you admitting that you are...attracted to Mr. Ouji? Dare I say...like him?!"

Bulma's jaw slacked, a scoff erupting from her throat. "No! Are you crazy? He's a rival!"

"A rival that you like." Chi-Chi giggled into the palm of her hand, her eyes lighting up with amusement. "Just admit it."

Bulma pursed her lips, narrowing her eyes as she chewed the meaty area of the inside of her cheek. Did she like Vegeta? Hmph! As if, she internally scoffed, glancing down at her forearm with a frown. If she were to like a man, she would not like one that hurt her. "No," she affirmed, a serious expression dancing upon her facial features as she frowned. "I really don't like him, Chi-Chi."

"Alright," the athletic beauty sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes. " _But,_ I called it if you two hook up..."

* * *

Scattered papers were strewn over Vegeta's large desk as he raked through the filing cabinets within Bulma's office.

"No, no, no," he muttered, his eyes twitching as his fingers roughly danced over each separator. "Fucking secretaries!" he growled, shaking his head furiously as he slammed the metal cabinet shut with great force, causing it to quake.

Vegeta ran a hand through his thick, ebony hair while storming out of the small office and into his own. His tawny-colored upper lip curled over his teeth as he walked down the small step into the square-cut center of the room where two couches faced each other, separated by space and a glass coffee table.

He slumped down onto one of the black leather couches, pulling two documents from his black suit pocket, swearing loudly.

There were two small enterprises that he had not completed the interest and financial information for tax details that were supposed to be finished the day the woman arrived. _Gah! The blasted wench has distracted me!_ he raged internally, his hands shaking.

If he showed this to his father, he could only imagine the terror that would be wreaked upon him.

He removed the pen resting above his ear and tore the cap off with his teeth as he leaned over and rested the papers on the table. With very little patience, he wrote furiously upon the document, his eyes scanning the minor details as he wrote his claim.

The heavy wooden door to his office busted open, revealing a laughing, boisterous duo; Raditz and Tarble.

"No, it was totally you who pulled that prank on Kakarot!" Tarble exclaimed, slapping Raditz's back with a large grin, who smiled in return.

"Fine, we did it together!"

Vegeta jolted in surprise, the tip of his pen slid across the paper, leaving a long, thick inky diagonal trail across his document. He twitched, his sleepless and bloodshot eyes landing on the pair, a loud snarl fleeing his lips.

The two idiots immediately stopped their raucous laughter and incessant chatter. Vegeta could practically smell their fear as they audibly gulped.

Tarble's dark eyes met Vegeta's soulless ones, and he bit the inside of his cheek as he stared at his very on edge brother. "Uhm…" he brought a fist to his lips, clearing his throat before weakly smiling at his sibling. "What's wrong, Vegeta?"

A dry chuckle ran past the older brother's lips as he leaned back into the couch, lazily draping an arm to rest atop the leather. "What's wrong?" he oozed, feigning a sickly sweet smile. "Oh, not much," he shrugged, swiping the now ruined papers off his coffee table.

Raditz glanced at Tarble, gulping once more as a tremor of fear rolled down his spine. This was bound to end terribly out of their favour.

Vegeta walked out of the cleanly cut circle, stepping in the northern area of his office toward his desk. "I just have to finalize the incomplete taxes on two miniscule operations I overtook this last month," he spoke through gritted teeth, stopping in front of his desk before slapping the papers on top with force. "Before our father decides to...pop in, in two day's time."

He turned to face toward the naive imbeciles, straightening his back and holding his head high, smile still intact. "Did you know Father is quite hell bent at the moment to take everything away from us, Tarble?" Vegeta questioned venomously, his eyes glinting with anger.

"And all the while, while I'm attempting to prevent such ludacris acts," he waved his hands behind him, indicating to the piles of work on his desk, "I'm surrounded by new secretaries and fucking morons who can't seem to take things seriously and like to fuck around not only in their leisure time, but clocked-in time as well!"

Tarble and Raditz gave each other a knowing side glance, and the younger sibling frowned, his eyebrows knitting together in concern. Geez, he's having one of his rare meltdowns...he must be really stressed, Tarble chewed the inside of his lower lip, shaking his head. What could I possibly do? Vegeta has always tried to do what's best for me…

"I'll help more," Tarble blurted, earning Vegeta's glare to be turned upon him. The short male chuckled nervously, fiddling with the end of his tie as he repeated in a stammer, "I'll help more."

"Really?" Vegeta's voice practically dripped with sarcasm and disbelief. "How so?"

"You take over small enterprises and or companies. Also, you have to work with the board when it comes to negotiating and striking deals with other companies, as well as selling things such as stocks and pieces of other businesses," Tarble began, shoving his shaking hands into his pockets. "And I'll do the paperwork, along with additional things if need be, considering your new secretary may not know how to do so."

Vegeta's eye twitched, but he crossed his arms over his chest, tilting his head to the side while considering Tarble's offer.

"And, in the meantime," Raditz piped up, raising a hand in the air like a young student, "I can take care of those two documents for you, and have them back to Cyan by late afternoon, early evening."

A growl emitted from Vegeta's esophagus as he sighed heavily, shutting his eyes. "Fine," he gritted out, reopening them as his fingers drummed along his bicep. He turned toward his desk, snatching the papers from them, crumpling them up before chucking them at Raditz. "Both of you," he barked gruffly, "get out."

"Tch, something crawled up your ass and died," Raditz huffed, bending on the ground and grabbing the papers, before adding with a snicker, "and it certainly wasn't your new secretary."

Tarble unwittingly began to chuckle at the remark, but immediately ceased when Vegeta glared daggers at him.

"If looks could kill…" Raditz shook his head before slapping Tarble's shoulder. "Let's go, kid."

The second heir nodded numbly, not needing another instruction before hightailing it out of the room, hoping his brother would leave him alone for the time being.

Just as Raditz about stepped out of the office, he paused by the doorway, turning his head to the right. "You know, Vegeta, you should find a _healthy_ distraction. That secretary's obviously not working out, but try and find something else to do besides staying in here. It'll kill you at some point."

Without another word, the long-haired man was gone, and the door shut.

Vegeta sighed, his shoulders slumping as he tilted his head forward, massaging his temple with his right hand. "Fucking idiots," he muttered, closing his eyes in irritation. "I need fucking coffee, and that damned secretary is late…"

* * *

Bulma hummed happily, dancing to the light, jazzy tune echoing through the tiled breakroom. She bounced on the balls of her feet, her thigh-length red dress swaying to the rhythm and beat. She leaned over the granite counter, grabbing the black handle to the coffeepot before pouring the steaming liquid into her grey mug.

Soft chatter rang off the walls of the room, multiple workers using their leisure time before work to enjoy company and a nice cup of coffee.

"Would you like some cream, miss?" a petite blonde questioned, batting her lashes as she held the small container of cream, causing Bulma to smile.

"Yes, please." She nodded, watching as the woman poured the white contents into her inky drink. "Thank you."

"No problem," the woman chirped, resting the metal pot down, opening her mouth to introduce herself. However, before should could, the door swung open, revealing a very livid and pissed off boss. "Oh, I've gotta go now!" she spluttered, rushing past multiple other people who were in a rush to exit the room, due to the sudden appearance Vegeta.

Bulma rolled her baby blues, shaking her head with a small smile as she continued to sway her hips to and fro whilst stirring her coffee with a long, silver spoon.

Vegeta's boiling temper flared up as workers exited the office in fear, except Cyan. Of course his secretary would procrastinate within the break room - should he have expected anything less? He did not think so.

"Typical," he began, his hollow voice gruff, husky. "I scared everyone away, except my problem."

"Gee," her soft voice chuckled, paying no mind to the man who loomed behind her. "I wonder why."

"Perhaps you could explain," he prodded jokingly, snickering lightly as he rested his cup upon the glossy counter, staring at her.

She did not give him the satisfaction of looking at him, instead, she shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. "Well, for starters, you are their boss, therefore, you scare them."

"I don't scare you."

Bulma scoffed, glaring at him through her peripherals. "I do not fear you because all you are is a brutish jerk, Vegeta."

Anger rose within his being, his lips twitching into a frown as he released a chuff. She had the nerve to declare him an asshole without looking at him dead in the eye? His jaw flexed in annoyance, yet, a flame of desire built within him.

"A jerk?" he repeated, leaning in toward her. "You're playing with a dangerous fire, Ms. Noall."

"Oh, am I?" she snarked, turning toward him with a huff. "Apologies, Vegeta, but I do believe that you were the one who bruised my forearm, the other day."

A loud rumble rolled inside his chest. "Careful now," he tutted, a faint smirk curling the corner of his lip. "the fire is growing."

She scowled at the amusement flickering within his eyes. Did he really believe hurting a woman was funny? Scoffing, she crossed her arms over her chest. "I'll extinguish it beneath my pretty little heel, then."

Vegeta tilted his head to the side, a slanted smile stretching across his face. "I look forward to seeing you try and fail, Ms. Noall." Grabbing the handle of his mug, he swivelled upon his heel, calling over his shoulder, "I expect to see you in your office soon."

Bulma's lips parted in relief once his muscular figure disappeared from sight. She rested a hand against her chest, her face flushing as she felt her heart rate increase. "What the hell…" she murmured, breathing in deeply to calm her jittery nerves. The butterflies within her stomach grazed her belly, and a pool of heat filled within her fut. What was she feeling? There was no possible way she could be attracted to Vegeta, right?

Whatever the feeling was, Bulma knew one thing: _This would not end well._

* * *

Raditz lounged in the chair in front of Vegeta's desk, his feet propped up atop the wood. A lazy grin sprawled across his lips as he tilted his head back, watching as Vegeta entered through the creaky door. He looks content, Raditz mused, his brows raising in surprise. "Did you find your distraction?"

A wicked grin slipped onto Vegeta's face while shutting the door with a snicker. "Yes, I believe that I have."

* * *

 _ **Alright! Now, I know it's been awhile since I last update. Like...almost three seasons, awhile. But, here's the deal: I finished the entire story.**_

 _ **BUP BUP BUP! Now, wait. No, I have not completed editing the whole story, so updates aren't going to be quick to come. I want to inform you all that over the course of writing this story, I have GREATLY improved, and you will definitely notice in much later chapters. These beginning chapters aren't the best of this works, but they are sufficient and get me where I wanted to go with my vision. I promise you that after chapter 10, I will have you all begging for more frequent updates. ;)**_

 **If you have any questions, comments, or concerns, leave it in a review or PM me. Thank-you!**

 ** _Until next time!_**

 ** _DoV xx_**


	4. Chapter 4

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing of Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z, or GT. I'm just a happy little camper (student) who writes in her free time, and hangs out with her dogs. Additionally, the cover photo is a photo I found from surfing on the internet and belongs to the rightful owner (whoever it may be)._**

 _ **Can you blame me? It was a sexy picture of Vegeta.**_

 ** _Beta: Myself._**

 ** _Posted: 4-9-16_**

* * *

The scribbling of a ballpoint of a pen echoed throughout the small, glass encased office as Bulma furiously scrawled notes upon various papers.

It was officially her second week at Ouji Enterprises.

….and it could not have gotten any worse. Her job was overbearing and her hours endless due to Vegeta's pickiness on when she should arrive. Some days, it was eight in the morning, and on a rare, good day, she would be able to sleep in until eight, and leave her apartment by eight-thirty.

A sigh escaped her lips as she slumped her head into the palm of her hand, closing her eyes. She placed her pen down, and rotated her aching wrist. Living life as a "normal" citizen was not easy. She had two and a half months to gather dirt on her Vegeta for Wall Street, and she had nothing. Zilch. Nada.

Nothing besides how he constantly flirted with her, and she was almost positive a story about Vegeta's left-handed relationship would be a floozy. Or, did he use his right hand? Whatever the case, it didn't matter.

One positive note with work was, occasionally, Vegeta himself-although, she hated to admit it. She enjoyed when he came up to her in his suave, fancy suits...his deep voice causing her to receive gooseflesh as he attempted to make a move on her. In her short-lived fantasies, she sometimes envisioned what he would look like, naked...on top of her and her desk...

Bulma's eyelids snapped open, and she inhaled sharply before glancing at her computer screen's clock. "Noon...blood sugar's low," she mumbled, shaking her head to rid her made-up imagery. "I need to eat lunch before I hallucinate any further."

She snatched her leather briefcase from the edge of her desk, raking through it for a paper sack, only for one not to be found. "Dammit." She harshly whispere the curse with a heavy sigh as her stomach rumbled loudly. She tapped her manicured fingers on the polished wood of her desk, biting her lower lip as she glanced through her wall at Vegeta's slouched, working form.

Bulma shrugged before standing from her comfortable chair. She supposed she would just show him who was who's boss.

"Alright!" Bulma waltzed from her office to his, a big grin on her lips as she slapped down a third pile of paperwork atop Vegeta's desk. "I will be taking my leave for my lunch break," she declared, her eyes boring into Vegeta's skull as she rose a hand in the air, fore-finger pointed to the ceiling in triumph. "And I will be back in one hour."

As she turned to leave, Vegeta glanced up from his documents. "Ms. Noall," his voice rang throughout the room as a disapproving frown carved deep into his cheek as he glanced at the clock. "It is only noon."

"Exactly, Mr. Ouji," she replied in a sing-song voice, not bothering to turn around as she swayed her hips side to side, tauntingly. "It's lunch time."

 _Insolent female!_ Vegeta's mind roared, his eye twitching in annoyance before a smirk replaced his frown as a thought came to mind.

Her hand clasped around the brass door handle and before she exited, Vegeta's voice stopped her.

"Then I require you to come to my penthouse tonight, and continue working for the hour that you are slacking off."

Bulma whipped around to face her boss, her lips pursing in disapproval as her eyebrows lowered over her eyes, shooting him a deathly glare. _That incorrigible man!_ She inwardly screamed, the peach fuzz on the back of her neck standing furiously. _Who did he think he was?! A perverted mastermind?!_

It was in that moment, Bulma's life paused for a split second, as she realized what Vegeta truly was-a man that had a difficult time distinguishing what head to use. A smirk crawled onto her face, rivalling Vegeta's. She would definitely have her fun.

She sauntered up to his desk, slowly and sexily, whilst she watched Vegeta's Adam's apple bob nervously. Was that nervousness? Oh, who was she kidding? If she were male and met someone like her, she would be on two knees, already.

Bulma arrived at his desk, resting the palms of her hand upon his desk, leaning toward him to give him a good view beneath her grey blazer and tank top. "Is it for…" she began in a whisper, leaning in beside his ear, "for business?"

Vegeta's eyebrows raised in astonishment before he growled approvingly at her busty display. "What do you think?"

It was a shame Bulma did not leave his statement rhetorical.

"Well, I think," Bulma began loudly, a broad smile on her face as she pulled away from him, "that I will need to be paid additional overtime if I stay longer than expected. But, because this is not for practical business reasons," she winked flirtatiously, patting his hand with sympathy, "the answer is…" her smile fell, and her tone was filled with disgust as she deadpanned, "no."

Vegeta's jaw slacked with shock as she turned away from him for the second time that day, and rushed out of the room.

* * *

"Sooo," Goku began, leaning back on the two legs of a wooden chair, his feet resting upon the metal desk below dozens of television screens. His hands rested behind his head as he thoughtfully looked up at the ceiling, whistling. "Have ya talked to Cyan recently?"

Raditz scrunched his nose his disgust before shuffling behind his younger brother, and swatting the back of his head. "Of course not, Kakarot!" he snapped, rolling his eyes. "That's Vegeta's meat - and, set all four chair legs on the ground before you hurt yourself!"

Goku sighed as he rubbed the back of his head with a frown, tears forming at the corners of his eyes as he sputtered, "You didn't have to hit my head!"

"You're hard-headed anyways," Raditz snorted, flattening out a slight wrinkle on his suit jacket. "Speaking of which, aren't you supposed to be doing your...oh, I don't know, job?"

"I am!" Goku insisted in a whining voice, pouting. "It's my shift to watch the screens while Nappa and the others go around the building - I only do this like...once a month! Besides, nobody goes and steals anything anyways."

"Tch, I think that's besides the point, little brother," Raditz rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. "You're an idiot."

"Nuh-uh!" Goku objected. "And, hey! Aren't you supposed to be doing your job?!"

"Hey, look!" Raditz exclaimed distractedly, pointing to a television screen focusing on the lobby, "It's Cyan!"

"What? Where?!"

"Haha! Sike, little brother!" Raditz howled, clutching his stomach while Goku's face flushed with embarrassment as he looked away from the screen. "Wow, I knew that you liked her, but I didn't think that mu-"

In a small screen, a blue-haired female popped out of the opened metal doors of an elevator. She was walking toward the entrance, her briefcase in hand.

"Oh my God," Raditz breathed, his mouth opened in shock as his eyes locked on the screen. Bulma had paused to search her bag. "Is she taking a lunch break?"

"Who?"

"Cyan!"

Goku blew a raspberry. "I'm not falling for that again!"

"No, you dumbass!" Raditz snapped, grabbing the roots of his brother's hair and turning his head toward the television. "I'm not joking!"

Goku's eyes bucked, his mouth falling open in shock as he spluttered, "But...Vegeta never ever lets his secretaries out for lunch!"

"Sweet mother of God..." Raditz whispered, his grip loosening on his brother's hair. Did Vegeta really allow her to go out?! Just how far was he willing to go with this one?

"I'll be taking my lunch break now-make sure you stick around to watch for those robberies!"

Son Goku shot up from his chair, slapping his brother's hands away with a grin as he snatched his brown suit jacket that hung on the arms of his chair. The unruly-haired male winked at his brother with a thumbs up, forcing Raditz to sit in the chair with a defeated expression.

"Kakarot, you can't do that. V-!" Before he could finish, Goku had already zipped out of the security room and was making his advancements toward the lobby. "...egeta'll kill you."

* * *

"Cyan, wait up!"

The felted tips of her heels clacked against the cracked cement below her as she interweaved between dozens of people on the bustling street. Loud blares resounded from the busy road and chatters from various conversations intermingled with the smell of food wafting above citizens' heads.

Goku's eyes followed the stunning, bright blue hair out of all the brown and blonde, his gaze hopeful. His brown jacket was clutched within his left hand as he waved his right, turning side by side to pass through gaps between people.

Why isn't she responding? Goku thought with a pout. Oh, I know! "Blue!" he exclaimed Bulma's nickname, and she craned her head to her left, then right, searching for the owner of the voice. "Behind you!"

Bulma turned her body around, her eyes landing on the sore thumb that towered above all other people. Her tense demeanour relaxed, her shoulders slumped and she smiled as he neared. "Goku, you scared me!"

"Sorry," he grinned, grabbing her forearm and pulling her to the side of the busy street. He scratched at the nape of his neck, a blush on his cheeks. "I just noticed you leaving, and I haven't said hello in a while!"

"Well," Bulma laughed, her smile broadening as she gave him a slight wave. "Hello."

Goku's signature grin grew wider and his eyes lit up. "So, are you going out for lunch? 'Cause I was hungry and I was wonderin' if I could join you?"

"Uh…" Bulma blinked in surprise, stammering slightly as she gazed up at the tall man. Well, this was unexpected. "I, uh, actually was going to meet up with a friend…"

"Great!" Goku chirped as he began walking. "I can't wait to meet them!"

A small dribble of sweat slid down the side of her face as she pursed her lips, eye twitching. _Man...he really is clueless! Oh well,_ Bulma shrugged as she moved passed him, taking the lead. _At least his intentions are innocent!_

* * *

The lunch-break duo entered a large, grey building with red trim. Inside, it contained slightly sparkly red chairs and booths around the room, and large, glass-framed rock and roll pictures were scatter along the white walls.

"Oh! Over here," Bulma pointed toward the corner booth on the left hand side of the dining room, facing the wall-to-floor windows. The booths along the windows sat upon a single step, the metallic coverings shimmering in the sunlight.

"Chi-Chi!"

"Bul-? Oof!" Chi-Chi gasped as Bulma rammed into her, placing her mouth next to her friend's ear.

"The name's Cyan, I work with this guy and he seems pretty close to Vegeta. But, his intentions are fine."

Bulma pulled away from their awkward embrace with a large smile, motioning toward the tall man behind her. "Chi-Chi, this is Goku, he's head of security for Ouji Enterprises."

Chi-Chi's chocolate colored eyes flitted from Bulma to the unruly-haired male, her breath hitching in her throat slightly. Her eyes shone as they admired the handsome structure of his masculine face and solid build. "H-hello," she choked out, blushing slightly as she lifted a hand for him to shake. "It's nice to meet you, Goku."

"Nice to meet ya too!" Goku chirped, rubbing his neck with his left hand as he shook hers with his right. His grip was tight, causing Chi-Chi to wince and his grin to fall. "Oops, sorry!" he chuckled nervously glancing at his hand. "I don't usually shake a girl's hand."

"Oh, it's fine," Chi-Chi shrugged it off while simultaneously rubbing her hand. "Anyways," she smiled at Bulma who smirked knowingly, and she gulped. Uh-oh. "Let's sit."

Chi-Chi slid onto her plastic covered booth, followed by Bulma, who sat on the opposite seat.

Goku quickly glanced back and forth between both girls, not sure whom to seat himself beside. _Chi-Chi's kinda actin' weird, I wanna sit next to Cyan anyways,_ he thought with a smile before sliding in beside Bulma.

Chi-Chi flinched slightly, and Bulma smirked, resting an elbow on the table and her chin within her palm, watching her friend. When their eyes met, Bulma winked, and Chi-Chi shook her head in denial.

"Uh...Chi-Chi?" Goku questioned, blinking. "Are ya okay?"

"Wha?" she looked away from her best friend, meeting Goku's gaze with a blush. "Oh yeah, I'm fine," she smiled before shooting a glare toward Bulma.

Luckily, the waitress had arrived.

"Hello!" the blonde chirped, placing three cups of water along with menus upon the table. "I'll be takin' your orders today! Are there any othe-" the blonde paused mid-sentence before blinking and smiling at the women sitting. "Oh, it's you two! You're regulars."

"Yes," Bulma cleared her throat, sliding her menu back to the girl, causing Chi-Chi to do the same. "I think I'm ready to order."

"Same," Chi-Chi agreed, nodding her head before glancing back at Goku. "But, shouldn't we wait for Goku?"

He waved them off, and scanned the menu with an intense focus while the waitress continued to smile and pull out a small notepad and pen. "What can I getcha'?"

"I would like a reuben sandwich - and I want to see lots of sauerkraut," Bulma elaborated, pointing at the waitress with a serious gaze. "And, a side of fries as well."

"Mhm, and for you, miss?" the blonde directed her gaze toward Chi-Chi.

"Just a caesar salad for me, please."

The tall, skinny girl scribbled on her notepad before redirecting her attention toward Goku, her smile broadening slightly. "And you?"

"Uh…" Goku pursed his lips before glancing at the waitress. "How fast do you write?"

All three women gave Goku a puzzled look before she responded, "Pretty fast."

"Oh, okay then," he chirped looking back at the menu, "I would like the spicy chicken wings, the meatloaf plate with mashed potatoes and carrots, a side of fries, and erm...a small pepperoni pizza? Oh, and a hot dog to go, please."

They all stared at Goku, shocked, their mouths dropped open as the waitress furiously wrote down his large order, sweat forming on her forehead.

"Uhm...I'll go put this in," she whispered awkwardly, before slowly walking away, shaking her head.

Goku in return just blinked at the two girls staring at him and a crease of concern formed between his brows. "Was it something that I said?"

"Huh? Oh, no, no, no," both girls managed to frantically reassure the man simultaneously.

"It's just…" the bluenette beside him began, laughing weakly. "Do you always eat this much?"

"Oh, yeah! Why?"

"No reason," Bulma squeaked, taking a deep interest in the straw inside her cup.

"Anyways," Chi-Chi drawled, grabbing her perspired glass. "How's Vegeta today, Bul-Blue?"

Bulma shot her friend a glare before beginning her tirade. "Ugh," she moaned, shaking her head in disgust, "that man is a piece of work! He tried to demand that I work extra hours at his penthouse because I left for lunch."

"Aw, but Cyan!" Goku sighed, nudging her slightly. "Vegeta never has let any other secretaries out for lunch! Usually when they ask, he fires them."

"See? That proves my point," Bulma scoffed, crossing her arms stubbornly under her bosom. "He's a jackass."

When Bulma's arms crossed beneath her breasts, Goku curiously looked down her shirt…

"Oh, please," Chi-Chi rolled her eyes, smiling, "I think he is smitten with you, considering he has not fired you so far. Besides, Blue, I think you fancy him yourself."

Goku blinked, snapping out of his trance. "Do you like Vegeta?" he questioned, his expression sorrowful and the tone of his voice dropping a decibel.

"No!" Bulma exclaimed, releasing a growl of frustration. "I do not like Vegeta! He's a real jerk, and just wants to get into my pants!"

"Ya know, Vegeta really is misunderstood by lots of women," Goku reprimanded. "He really is not that bad if you get to know him."

"Oh?" Bulma, rolling her baby blue orbs. "Really? I'm sure you know the true Vegeta Ouji."

"Uh...well, we've known each other since we were kids."

This got both Chi-Chi's and Bulma's attention.

"Really?" Chi-Chi's nose scrunched in disbelief as she tilted her head to the side thoughtfully. "You'd think someone like that…"

"Wouldn't have friends?" Bulma finished, snorting once more. "Yeah, I know."

"No," the small female sitting alone shook her head. "Just, you'd think with all the publicity and such, it'd be difficult to make really good friends."

"Well," the handsome man grinned boyishly, "I'm his best friend! He just won't admit it. Vegeta's not a real emotional person. Like I said, he's just misunderstood!"

"Tch." Bulma blew a raspberry. "I can totally tell. He's so not an asshole that wants me back within the hour to work."

Chi-Chi began laughing, a broad smile lifting her cheeks as she pointed her finger at Bulma.

Goku stared at Chi-Chi, confused. "What's so funny?"

"She's laughing because she doesn't work long hours," Bulma deadpanned, rolling her eyes.

"I do too work long hours!" Chi-Chi cried, a scowl replacing her smile. "Have you even tried teaching five-year olds for three and a half hours a day?!"

"No," Bulma snapped. "But, it can't be that bad!"

Chi-Chi snorted, her eyebrows raising in shock. "Oh, really?" she drawled sarcastically, standing from her seated position, turning around to face the duo. On the back pockets of her black skinny jeans were two small, yellow handprints of dried paint on her ass. "Alex did that today during art time," she huffed, sitting back down once more.

Bulma and Goku glanced at each other, toward Chi-Chi, and then at each other once more before bursting into howls of laughter.

"Yeah, yeah," Chi-Chi sighed dramatically, "laugh it up!"

As they did, Chi-Chi watched Goku, her heart skipping a beat. Dimples appeared in his cheeks as his eyes squinted, laugh lines appearing on the corner of his eyes as his lips stretched further.

Eventually, his laughter was so contagious, that she began laughing too. Soon after the revelation of Chi-Chi's painted rear, their food arrived sizzling hot, and her gaze was still focused on Goku. He glanced at her, worried.

"Is there somethin' on my face?"

"No, Goku," she shook her head, reaching for the ketchup as she avoided Bulma's knowing gaze. "Everything's clear."

* * *

By the time that Bulma had arrived back to the office, she had prolonged her lunch by another hour, only to leave herself with a very furious employer. However, Vegeta managed to maintain his stoic demeanor until after he sent her out for coffee.

"Goddamned woman and fucking Kakarot!" Vegeta roaring sliding numerous books off his desk, causing papers to fly around the room. His forefinger slammed down upon the red button on his office phone, his voice low, deadly. "Kakarot, get your ass in my office, now."

Vegeta stood, his hands angrily clutching the edge of his desk as he drilled two holes into the wooden door for minutes, waiting.

When the moment arrived the Goku entered the office with a large grin, it immediately fell.

Unbidden, Vegeta's gaze averted from the door to Goku and his face contorted into a mask of hatred as his upper curled back into a fierce snarl. His empty, ebony orbs sparked to life with rays of hate as he stared at his head of security, silently willing himself to send the idiot to the most daunting pit in hell.

"What," his hoarse voice began, deep and thunderous, "do you think you were doing?"

"Uh…" Goku chuckled nervously, gulping a wad of saliva as one hand tugged at the collar of his white shirt. "Whattya mean, 'Geta?"

Vegeta slammed his fists down upon his table with a snarl, glowering. "Don't play stupid, you buffoon! Why the hell were you out for lunch with my secretary?!"

"I just went out to go ea-"

" _Bullshit!_ You have motives that I do not know about!"

Goku frowned, his eyebrows lowering over his eyes dangerously as he glared at his long-time companion. "I can go out to lunch with who I want, Vegeta! She's not like the other women that you have slept with - and you should treat her as such. Cyan is not stupid, and you will never have a chance with her if you keep acting high and mighty all the time!"

Vegeta dared to bark out a laugh as a grimace of a scowl appeared on his face. "Ha! What would a virgin such as yourself know, Kakarot? You're a blubbering idiot, and you do not have a chance yourself, if that's what you're thinking!"

"You know what Vegeta?!" Goku scoffed, his fingers curling and uncurling into fists as defiance bubbled in the back of his throat. He had no right to control him the way he has, or treat him the way he was! "At least I'm not depraved or cold, and at least I have emotions, because you know what?" He laughed, spreading his arms wide as he walked backwards toward the exit. "At least more women like me for my personality, not my status."

With that said, the security guard was gone, leaving Vegeta to howl in frustration, and slump back into his leather chair.

* * *

Goku stormed out of Vegeta's office furiously, his jaw muscles flexing in irritation as he pushed passed several people. Instead of taking the elevator, he decided to take a few flights of stairs in order to release extra pented up steam.

I can't believe he acted like that! He needs to respect other people and not just women! He fumed, arriving at a platform and deciding to use the floor's elevator. As he pushed through the doors, he passed by multiple people within their rightful cubicles, making his way toward his dream exit.

As he did, however, he rammed into a petite female with a yelp, his reflexes immediately kicking in as he quickly wrapped an arm around the woman. Unluckily, hot, sticky brown coffee splattered everywhere, staining his white shirt.

"I'm so sorry!" Bulma cried before looking up, "Oh, Goku!" she smiled before pulling away from him, brows furrowed. "What's wrong? You're not upset with this, are you? I wasn'-"

"No, no!" he brushed her off, shaking his head as he gave her a weak smile. "Just...please don't get too close to Vegeta, alright? I mean...don't hook up with him, it never ends up the way girls want to because he's..he's Vegeta."

Bulma blinked, clueless. Was there something wrong? Perhaps they had a falling out? Anyways, how did it bring her into the mess?

"Anyways, sorry about the mess, I'll bring some money tomorrow to replace your blazer," he nodded, brushing past her, toward the elevator.

"Well, shit," she whispered to herself, gazing at her blazer with distaste. "Guess I'll be taking a little extra time to get coffee…"

* * *

Later that night, Vegeta stood in front of his windows overlooking the city skyline, watching as the sun dipped below the horizon. Dull and bright balls of fire began popping into the royal blue sky, decorating the soon-to-be inky blackness.

The man sighed, his shoulders slumping in an uncharacteristic way. His frown appeared to carve deeper into his bronzed left cheek, his eyes vacant. Vegeta's mind was elsewhere, focusing on the words Goku had spewed to him earlier that day.

 _"At least more women like me for my personality, not my status."_

It was true, there was no denying such a thing. Women saw him as a sugar daddy, pampering them to every desire and need as long as they would lay with him and keep him entertained. But, truthfully, did he truly want just sex for the rest of his life?

He scoffed at the thought, rolling his eyes. It was not as if he had the option of a happy, enjoyable life even if he did have a woman who stood by his side. At least, not with his father around.

No, he had no option of happiness at all.

Just work and sex. Nothing more, nothing less.

However, Goku had hit a sore spot after exclaiming that he was emotionless, cold. Vegeta had to be - he had no other choice if he was going to survive within the business world.

There are only two types of people within the business industry: the ones who consider taking risks, and the risk-takers.

It definitely did not take a genius to figure out, or at least assume, which category he currently fit under.

Vegeta released a heavy sigh, shaking his head as he brought his thumb and forefinger to pinch the bridge of his nose. Had he lost a friend? One of the few, genuine things that he had in his life?

Little did he know, his little minx of a secretary had been watching him for a few moments before pulling up next to him silently.

She gave him a side-glance and studied him for a few moments in silence before he eventually broke, causing her to smile slightly.

"What?" he snapped.

For once, Bulma had decided not to be too bold with her accusations. "You're upset, Mr. Ouji," she noted in a whisper, directing her gaze back toward East City's skyline.

"Tch. Whatever," he grumbled, snorting as he continued, "there's nothing I can do to fix this mess."

Bulma paused, frowning at his words. Of course there were other ways to fix his issues with Goku-perhaps he just needed to be turned in another direction? Deciding that was the case, she stated, "Tarble's your sibling."

Vegeta rolled his eyes, as he sarcastically snarked, "No."

"Well, I'm sure you two used to make messes when you were young. And I'm sure you fought over who got to clean the mess, right?"

He offered her a firm nod. What was the point of this conversation?

"Well, anyone can clean a mess," Bulma offered quietly, turning her gaze toward him once more. "Just sometimes, you have to be the bigger brother and start the cleaning. Eventually, the other brother will join in if it means enough to him."

Vegeta remained silent, his eyes boring into hers for a few moments, watching them sparkle in the dimly lit room. How did she know? He shoved his hands in his pockets wordlessly before returning his gaze to the sunset once more.

"Goodnight, Vegeta," she smiled, reaching a hand to squeeze his shoulder. An electric jolt shot down her arm and her warm touch comforted him slightly, causing the corner of his lip to lift slightly. She removed her hand from his broad shoulder, before turning around and walking toward the exit.

Bulma did not turn around, but she heard him shuffle toward his desk, and lift up his office phone. As she slipped out of the office, she faintly heard Vegeta's husky voice question, _"Kakarot?"_

After the door shut in place, Bulma rested her head against the finished wood, a sigh escaping her lips as they stretched into a small smile. _Maybe he isn't as emotionless as I presumed..._

* * *

 **Alright, chapter 5! I'm making it up in this world. ;)**

 **I didn't really look over this chapter, so apologies for any mistakes! I appreciate any constructive criticism that anyone might have, or writing tips! Again, I promise the chapters will get longer, better, and more exciting around chapter ten. So, in other words, if you are interested in this story, bear with me. :)**

I have to say, this whole story would not have been possible had I not received the idea from Gotrixisgreat99. He definitely cracked some jokes with me over the story's cover photo, and somehow, a simple idea spiraled from it all.

 **One idea that ended up being so, so much more.**

 **If you have any questions, comments, or concerns, just drop me a review or PM - I am happy to reply.**

 **R &R.**

 **Until next time!**


	5. Chapter 5

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing of Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z, or GT. I'm just a happy little camper (student) who writes in her free time, and hangs out with her dogs. Additionally, the cover photo is a photo I found from surfing on the internet and belongs to the rightful owner (whoever it may be)._**

 _ **Can you blame me? It was a sexy picture of Vegeta.**_

 ** _Beta: Myself._**

 ** _Posted: 4-16-16_**

* * *

Tarble readjusted his solid black tie beneath his suit for the umpth time, beads of water perspiring within his hairline. His right hand was clinging to the sleek handle of his briefcase for dear life, and he began a pattern of squeezing and releasing out of pure nervousness.

"Knock it off, brat," Vegeta's gruff voice snapped as he pulled up behind his younger brother in a hurry. He slid his navy blue sleeve past his wrist, glancing down at his silver banded Rolex before swearing loudly. He shrugged his sleeve back into place. "Where the fuck is Raditz?" he hissed, turning toward his sibling. "We're already late by three minutes!"

Tarble opened his mouth, his lips forming into the shape of a small 'o' as his eyes flitted around the hall, frantically. Desperation creeped into his stature, and his shoulders slumped, making the young Ouji look vulnerable.

Vegeta swatted Tarble's spine, snarling, "Back straight. You cannot appear weak in front of the board!"

"HE'S HERE!" An unwittingly loud, cheery voice rang throughout the halls, accompanied by heavy, obnoxious footsteps. Seconds later, two males rounded the corner just as Vegeta's right, bulging temple was about to burst.

"Quiet, Kakarot!" he hissed through the miniscule gaps of his pearly whites. His brows lowered above his dangerous eyes as the Son brothers stopped before them, panting.

"Alright," Raditz wheezed, inhaling deeply before exhaling. He attempted to recompose himself whilst running a hand through his long, disheveled hair, uttering, "Let's do this."

"You go, guys!" Goku chirped, closing his eyes while grinning. "I'll be sure to watch in the security room."

As Goku began walking away, Vegeta released a chuff before turning toward Raditz, glaring. However, before he could snap at the long-haired man, Goku's voice rang out for one final time: "Good luck, best buddies! I'll be rootin' for ya!"

Raditz and Tarble simultaneously groaned while Vegeta clapped a hand to his forehead before brushing past his two co-workers, muttering curses under his breath as he entered the boardroom.

* * *

The soft murmurs of twelve board members immediately ceased, all of their heads turned toward the door as they silently watched three men walk into the room.

A large, cushioned chair at the end of the table closest to the door swivelled around, an amused smirk hidden by the man's goatee. "Well, well," his clear voice echoed off of the walls as his eyes watched his son move past him, toward the other end of the table. "Look at who is late."

"Apologies, for the late arrival," Vegeta stated smoothly. His father did not deter him as he pulled out his chair, taking a seat. "Let's begin this meeting, shall we?"

"Yes, we shall," Vegeta's sire chuckled, resting his elbows upon the long, shiny table as he leaned in, staring at his son.

"Mr. Ouji," a bald man with a mustache cleared his throat, throwing his gaze toward the older Vegeta, "may I inquire as to why you're here today?"

Whispers of agreement erupted within the large group, all of them directing their attention toward the former president.

"Do tell, _father_ ," Vegeta said coolly, venom hidden behind his words as a sneer threatened to curl over his teeth. _He needs to allow me to rule my birthright, damnit!_

"Well," the Senior Ouji shifted his gaze from Vegeta toward the tall man, "I am here to make sure my son can fulfill his duties as current President of the company." The flame-haired man's dark gaze scanned over each man's face, a smirk teasing his lips. "However, I am here to tell you that it is not so."

Small chatter bursted among them, some men agreeing and disagreeing with Senior's statement.

Tarble, on the other hand, shifted uncomfortably within his rolly chair as he glanced at Vegeta. He shook his head with a defeated look, his lips tightening into a thin, white line.

Vegeta allowed a dry titter to escape his throat while raising a challenging brow toward his father.

Raditz then slapped his hand upon the table, gaining the attention of the every man, silencing them. "How is Mr. Ouji not fulfilling this company, Senior? So far, he has done an excellent job merging with multiple tech conglomerates and has made a move to make them prosper!"

Many men along the tables nodded with murmurs of agreement, their gazes flicking back and forth between both Vegetas.

"Yes," Senior spoke, stroking his goatee as the corners of his eyes crinkled with mirth. "You see, that is where he fails."

Once more, the group became silent.

"The annual profit amounts that Ouji Enterprises collects has dipped tremendously - almost by ten percent," Senior sighed dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. He smirked as the members lifted their pens and profusely scribbled notes."Unfortunately, this is the doing of my unthoughtful son."

An animalistic growl emitted from Vegeta as his stoic demeanour slipped. His eyes narrowed into icy slits as one of his hands hidden beneath the table curled into a fist.

"You see, although Vegeta has purchased various successful conglomerates and other small businesses and industries...he has neglected to complete numerous reports that keeps his projects from falling apart." The older flame-haired man continued, leaning back into his chair as he sighed for a second time. "I strongly believe that this is due to his frollicing with new secretaries, left and right."

All heads turned toward their President, looking at him expectantly as he glared at Senior.

"On the contrary to what any of you may believe," Vegeta quickly spat in response, his fingers digging into the skin of his thigh. "Myself, Tarble and Cyan - who is my current _and_ future, secretary - completed all records and progress reports upon each small company that this Enterprises has conquered. As for proof? Tarble."

Tarble's fingers fumbled with the button on his briefcase momentarily before opening it, grabbing a stack of well-filed papers. His jittery gaze landed on Vegeta's outstretched hand, before looking up to his older sibling, following Vegeta's hateful stare toward their father. With his lips quirking into a confident grin, Tarble handed the documents to his brother.

Vegeta licked the calloused pad of his thumb before slipping one paper off of another, handing each toward the board member to his right, who would then pass a page to the next person. As soon as each man received a slip of paper containing all the pristine records leading from past to present, Vegeta began once more.

"As you can clearly see, my father is quick to underestimate my abilities to better this company." He removed his gaze away from his father, and glanced at each member. "I am not unfit for this position and power, and if any of you believe otherwise, then I may have to question as to why you work for me or my company."

Each man within the room scanned their slip of information thoughtfully while Vegeta's father glared at his eldest, nostrils flaring.

In return, Vegeta smirked victoriously, eyes gleaming with amusement.

"Well," a ruddy-faced man chimed, nodding at the paperwork in approval. "I stand by what you say Mr. Ouji Junior, and I see both you and your brother fit to continue operating business affairs for the company."

Tarble glanced at Vegeta, offering a small smile of relief before clearing his throat. "Do all other members of the board agree?"

Eleven " _yeses"_ chorused in unison, and each associate grinned at the other with full confidence.

"Before we conclude," Vegeta began, pulling out a paper from Tarble's pile, "I would like to go over the future plans of units to install during the merge of our friends, Jabot, and how they would be useful…"

* * *

Smooth jazz crackled through the installed speakers within the break room, echoing off of the white walls. A certain bluenette swayed her hips to the music, humming along to the catchy beat.

"Hm, hmm," Bulma tapped her foot to the rhythm of the music as her fingers pinched a raw sugar packet before tearing the corner, dumping the bag's contents within her pitch black coffee. Bringing the cup to her lips, she tilted the mug back. The bitter liquid burned her tastebuds, and her face contorted with pure disgust.

"More sugar," she muttered, grabbing four more packets and tearing each of them open before dumping them into her coffee. After doing so, she pursed her lips thoughtfully as she stared at a small canister full of cream, debating whether or not to put some within her drink.

 _It is fattening,_ Bulma thought with a frown, raising a brow as if to challenge the silver can. _But, it's the good type of fat! You only need a splash!_ Her subconscious argued and she giggled slightly as her fingers wrapped around the handle. _Besides, it tastes better this way!_

While Bulma tipped and poured the creamy white contents of the frosty canister, a shadow casted over her.

"Hiya, Cyan!" he greeted loudly startling the heiress and she dropped the cream, gasping. She shrieked as a small pool of white enveloped her shoes.

She whipped around to face her attacker, her hands held up defensively. "What the he-...Oh, Goku," she immediately relaxed, smiling. "Hey, Goku," she offered weakly before glancing at her shoes with a frown. "You scared me, again."

"Oops," Goku laughed nervously, scratching the side of his head. "Guess I'll just have to bring more money tomorrow, too. Here's some cash because of the accident the other day," he chirped, handing her a small bag of zeni. "Sorry 'bout that!"

Bulma waved him off, shoving the money back toward him. "It's no problem, don't worry! I don't need the money, but thanks anyways."

"But..."

"No, no," she shook her head, offering him a smile. "I promise, I'll be alright!"

"Well…" Goku pouted, placing the bag within his trousers pocket, "if you insist! Oh, I have a question."

"And that is…?"

"Vegeta's dad swung by today," Goku began, continuing to babble as Bulma's heart to stop. Her face visibly blanched as her veins turned to ice. Did he find out her secret? The wrinkles in her face creased with worry as she chewed her lower lip. Senior would expose her. He knew what she looked like-from all those years ago...He had shown up to a convention her father was hosting when she was a child, but there was no way _anyone_ could forget her hair colour...What would Senior say? That she abandoned Capsule Corporation in attempts to sabatoge Ouji Enterprises?

"Yoo-hoo! Earth to Ms. Noaaaaall…" Goku mumbled, waving two large hands in front of her face, causing her to snap out of her trance.

Bulma jolted, shaking her head as focus returned to her eyes. She blinked before uttering, "Huh?"

"I asked if you wanted to go to Vegeta's celebration tonight?"

"Hm? Oh," she stammered, a blush rising to her cheeks as she ran a hand through her hair. She released a sigh of relief as she bit the inside of her cheek. Good, it this isn't about me, she thought graciously, glancing up at the ceiling. I need to stop being so paranoid…and this party is a perfect opportunity to let loose!

"Sure," Bulma chirped, a smile tugging the corners of her mouth as she nodded. "It's been awhile since I've had some fun."

* * *

Vegeta stood, silently shoving leftover paperwork into his folder, sighing. After snapping his binder shut, he strode over toward the exit and rested his hand upon the handle.

Senior chuckled, not allowing his son's behaviour to phase him. Slowly, he began to applaud, gaining Vegeta's attention and preventing him from leaving the room.

"Well done, brat," the older counterpart praised, walking toward his son and patting him upon the shoulder. "You almost had me believing your little white lies."

"They were not lies," Vegeta sneered, shrugging away from his father's unfriendly touch. A blinding, white hot rage seared through his purple veins, reaching a boiling point. "You had no need to come here today, and you need to stay the hell out of my business."

"Technically," Senior chuckled rubbing his hands together with a smirk, "you have not officially taken over the company until I allow for it to occur. Until then," he sighed, shrugging his shoulders, "you're stuck with me."

Vegeta snorted as his left hand clenched into a fist, a feral snarl bubbling from his throat in defiance. "This is my birthright, old man! And I will be CEO whether you consent it or not!"

Senior threw his head back and released a howl of hollow laughter. "As if I would bestow my hard work upon a spoiled brat such as yourself! You have to prove to me that you are worth my company."

"It was a conferment the moment you _fucked_ my mother."

Before Vegeta could react, he was stumbling back into the rectangular board table. He clutched his aching jaw, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth with a smirk as he met his eyes met his sire's.

"Learn your place!" Senior's bellowed as his chest rose and fell in rapid succession, scowling. A vein manifested from the top of his widow's peak, trailing to his temple as he scowled.

A glob of mucus and saliva hung in the back of Vegeta's esophagus and he cleared his throat. He released a hack, coughing up a string of blood before spitting it a few centimeters to the left of his father's shoe.

His father's gaze connected with the floor, inspecting the glob. Fool, Vegeta smirked, pulling a fist back before slamming it against his father's eye socket.

Hot, glistening crimson began overruling Senior's visage like climbing ivy. Purely on impulse, he grabbed the front of Vegeta's shirt, bringing him a few breadths away from his face. "The next time I come for a private meeting," he growled, his sour breath cascading across Vegeta's face. "You better listen, and listen well."

Vegeta offered his carbon copy a bloody, manic smile. "I listen to _no one_ , old man."

Senior released his son forcefully with a sneer, spitting onto Vegeta's shoe. Shooting a final glare toward Vegeta, he turned on his heel and stormed from the room.

Vegeta dabbed the edges of his lips as a coppery, metallic taste filled his mouth. He chuckled hoarsely, clenching his fingers into fists. "I won this time, father…"

* * *

The line was long, but praise the Kai that she was near the front of it! Bulma shivered under the moon's light as she rubbed the underside of her bare arms, hoping the slight friction would create a sufficient amount of heat.

Despite the summer solstice just around the corner, the spring nights were still crisp and freezing, as per usual. She only wore a black, strapless, mid-thigh dress and her hair was down, its natural waves cascading to her midback. Unfortunately for her, the only warmth that was brought by her attire were her red heels.

A soft sigh escaped her lips as she was stopped abruptly by two bouncers, one asking for her identification which she graciously gave.

 _I can hear the music and practically feel the heat!_ she whined internally, offering a flirtatious smile toward the bouncer who returned her I.D. "Thanks, hun," she winked, giggling at his glower as she slipped past him.

Immediately upon entering, Bulma sighed with satisfaction as warmth enveloped her. The ground quaked beneath her feet while music blared through the speakers of the club. _The Nines, huh?_ she thought with a chuckle, shaking her head as strobe lights illuminated a pathway for her. _This doesn't seem very Vegeta-like. He's most likely simpering over in a quiet corner._

Her blue eyes searched the crowd patiently as she bit the inside of her lower lip. When she did not spot the group the first time, she scanned the crowd once more before seeing two distinct heads of hair belonging to the two Son brothers.

"Of course," she murmured with a smirk. "The corner, away from people...ha, genius, Bulma."

The heiress slowly began sauntering her way over toward her target, hips swaying left and right as she did. It was noticeably crowded within the pub, and Bulma pressed through the center of it, her skin connecting with sweaty, dancing bodies.

As she passed through living walls of drunkards, she could feel gazes following her, making her slightly uncomfortable. _I hope they're all too drunk to realize who I am,_ Bulma thought with a snort, rolling her eyes. Who was she kidding? Of course they were!

Despite her discomfort, the bluenette could not help but grin widely at the sight of her co-workers cheering.

"Hey, look! It's Cyan!" Goku howled with delight.

"Hey, little lady," Raditz grinned, patting the small of her back. "Welcome to the party!"

Bulma's eyes scanned the group, smiling brightly as she recognized a few familiar faces. Geez, there must be about thirty of them here!

"Oh, here ya go, Blue!" Goku grinned, handing Bulma a crystal glass. "This's gonna be good!"

"Alright, Kakarot, before any of us drink any of this...champagne," Raditz made a sour face at the mention of the name, earning laughs from fellow co-workers. "I'd like to just say that Vegeta, you kicked ass in today's meeting, and I don't think any of us will have to worry about your father trying to take the reigns from your hands!"

"Here, here!" multiple voices rang out, lifting their glasses in cheer before taking a drink. With satisfied tastebuds, the majority of the group stood before excusing themselves to the more exciting end of the club: the dance floor and the bar.

Bulma shook her head with a small laugh, bringing the edge of her glass to her lips. As she did so, her eyes latched onto two, alluring orbs, causing her to smile.

The flame-haired man in return raised an amused brow, challenging her to speak.

"Hey there, boss," Bulma said lightly, a playful smile lifting her cheeks. "So I heard about this victory of yours. Want to fill me in?" She cocked her head inquisitively to the side, and her oceanic locks spilled over her shoulders. They caught under the strobe lights above, glimmering as she scooted closer to Vegeta.

"Hn," he acknowledged, cracking his neck. "No."

Bulma's brow rose in amusement and she grinned wryly. "Knowing an asshole like you, why am I not surprised?" She laughed, sipping her alcohol. It scorched down her throat, but still, she drank slowly, savoring the taste.

Music pounded in the background and sweat mingled with the hot, musky air. By now, everyone had gone to dance the night away. A rumble emitted from Vegeta's throat, his eyes shining mischievously. "You are one to talk," he chuckled, grabbing a small, fat glass full of whiskey.

He tossed his head back, taking a swig of the burning, brown liquid. After swallowing, he offered her a sly grin, shaking his head. "You continue to play with a fire that is very dangerous, Ms. Noall."

"I'm sure I'm more than up for the challenge, Mr. Ouji," Bulma fired back. Her eyes twinkled with mirth. She swished the glass in her hand before resting her chin above her palm.

The darkness of the club hid it well, but it couldn't hide the obvious bruise that browned Vegeta's jaw. Bulma's eyes slid down to the injury, and her brows creased.

Although inside she was urging herself not to do it, Bulma reached out to gently stroke his wound. "What happened here?" she murmured, her voice almost lost in the background.

Vegeta flinched away from her touch as if it scorched him. With a frown, he pulled back from his secretary, leaning into the plush cushion of the booth.

"It's nothing," he muttered. "A present from my father," he chuckled, his fingers tightening around his glass, "Nothing more."

Despite her concern for Vegeta, Bulma pulled back her hand as a worm of worry coursed through her for the sake of her identity. They could not have discovered her identity yet, could they?

"Why did your father come to the meeting, anyways?" Bulma inquired, diverting the conversation. She had to know if her identity was being compromised, and anxiety tugged at her chest.

The heir of Ouji Enterprises gave the heiress of Capsule Corp. a side glance, a frown etching his lips "My father wanted to tarnish my name."

He downed another mouthful of whiskey, allowing the alcohol to burn his throat. He smacked his lips in satisfaction, closing his eyes. "... in front of my board members. Fortunately, I managed to shoot down the old man's idiotic accusations and saved my ass, and Tarble's, and yours, might I add."

Bulma schooled her expression to neutral, hiding the relief washing other her. Good, he doesn't know who I am. But, she could not fully relax yet. Vegeta did not hint anything about whether she was exposed or not, but for now, she was probably in the safe zone. It seemed she wasn't suspected-yet.

"I'll have to thank you for that, then." Bulma nodded, taking the liberty to fill her champagne glass with wine. Liquid sloshed inside, light glinting off the smooth surface. Raising her brow, she lifted her drink. "How about a toast for your success?" She grinned charmingly.

Vegeta nodded in approval, setting aside his empty glass of whiskey. His fingers wrapped around the stem of his wine glass for the second time that night, lifting it toward his secretary.

"Cheers," he mumbled before the bitter taste of aged wine waddled along his tastebuds.

He focused his gaze upon the beauty before him, appreciating the way her dress clung to her curvaceous form. _Why does she have to be more difficult than the other women from the past?_ he thought with a growl.

Unfortunately for him, that only made him desire her more. She was...different. A challenge that he wanted to conquer.

She could feel his gaze piercing through her as the liquid slipped down her throat. He was interested in her-she knew that-but a shiver of thrill throbbed in her chest. It was a feeling she hadn't felt in a long time.

There was no way she could possibly develop feelings for her bastard of a boss, but they were in a club, drinking away. It would not hurt to have some fun…

Clanking her glass down, Bulma pushed herself off her seat. "Enough with chatting," she said playfully, grasping Vegeta's arm and tugging him along. "Let's go dance!"

She was already bobbing to the beat, taken by the music.

The flame-haired man blinked, completely stunned by her proposition to dance. What the hell was she thinking?! "Woman," he groveled as she pulled him from his seat, "I do not dance!"

His silent plea appeared to be ignored due to the fact that the minx's grip tightened, and he followed closely behind her.

"Ha, don't be a spoil sport!" Bulma laughed. Inwardly, she cheered at her small victory. "We're at a club, so what did you expect? Or," she glanced behind her, shooting him a competitive smirk, "could it be," her lips pressed close to his ear, low and sultry, "you can't dance?"

They were now lost in the crowd, bodies moving and pumping to the beat. Bulma pulled away, giggling while grinning wickedly. Her hips sashayed and she twirled, hair fanning out with the motion.

 _I cannot dance?! Is she serious?!_ Vegeta scoffed, rolling his eyes at the petite female prancing around him. "I do not know how to dance?" he breathed, grabbing her hands within his, his hot breath skimming her pores. "You look like a chicken that just lost its head."

Now they were getting somewhere. A full fledged grin spread across Bulma's lips as she continued to move her body in sync with the music.

"Actions speak louder than words, buster. And, I don't see you moving." She trailed her fingers up the front of his chest, flicking his nose. Cerulean eyes clashed with obsidian. "Impress me."

The space between them shortened, the heat intensifying.

For a split second, Vegeta allowed a genuine grin to slip onto his face before quickly replacing it with a confident smirk. Quickly, yet tantalizingly, he unbuttoned the first few buttons of his long-sleeved dress shirt. He rolled the cuffs of his sleeves to his elbows, thanking the Kai he left his suit jacket at the booth.

Without further ado, Vegeta slid his hands over hers, tugging her toward him. He leaned in beside her neck, releasing a husky chuckle that tickled the hairs of her ear canal. "You shouldn't have challenged me, Ms. Noall."

Not allowing her time to react, Vegeta spun her out, the colorful lights illuminating her face. Bringing her back toward him, he placed both hands upon her hips, his fingers teasingly digging into her flesh.

Bulma's eyes widened and her breath hitched at his sudden change in demeanor, but she quickly broke out into a smile. So, it seemed he did have some fun in him after all.

"Hm," Bulma giggled, allowing Vegeta to lead her into their dance, "you're not too shabby. For a second there I thought you'd be a stiff," she teased. The music only seemed to magnify, making the whole moment more rich.

Heat tingled where his hands touched her hips. It was her first time seeing him out of his suit jacket, and she could appreciate the toned muscles he was hiding underneath those clothes. Vegeta is actually very attractive, she mused, pressing her hips against his teasingly. Aside from his prickly personality.

"You presumed incorrect," he rumbled, his right hand moving to hold her left. His hooded lids looked at the gorgeous female pressed against him, his heart thundering within his chest. She made his veins burst with excitement as blood rushed toward his lower regions. Drawing his face near hers, he allowed for the tip of his nose to graze hers, a shiver rolling down his spine.

What was she doing to him? _Nothing,_ his mind decided. _It's just the alcohol._

Music flooded her head and Bulma's breathing grew heavier the longer they danced. He was matching her step for step, and honestly, it excited her. The world spun away and in that moment, all Bulma registered was worries and stress from starting her new job and hiding her true identity ebbed away, losing herself in the blur.

She could accept that Vegeta was a good person, at least, for him. And whether it was the dancing or the fact that he was actually opening up to her, Bulma's heartbeat sped up, and her eyes rested on his lips.

Unwittingly at the same time as Bulma, his gaze had fallen to her red, plump lips. A carnal desire built within him, and his breathing quickened. Time, however, slowed around the duo, as nothing else mattered except them. The music became mute as his ears flooded with the sound of his pounding heart. Something within him twitched, hissing, _Take her._

His lust-filled gaze searched her eyes for a moment, before returning to her blushing pilgrims. They were his to claim.

Removing his hand from hers, he dragged it toward her supple cheek, caressing it with the pads of his fingers. Vegeta rested his forehead against hers, his straight nose slightly touching Bulma's slim one. Their breaths intermingled, each one kissing the others face a breadth away.

Within a millisecond, his lips were pressed firmly against Bulma's; moving slow, sensual.

Bulma's breath hitched the moment their lips connected. But Vegeta deepened it, and their tongues intertwined with one another. The initial shock ebbed away from her body, and her eyes fluttered shut. She leaned in, sinking into his embrace.

Heat seared her cheeks but the kiss grew hungrier and hotter with each passing second. Their lips moved in synchrony, and Bulma reached up, digging her hands through his thick hair-

As if a bucket of cold water was dumped on her, Bulma's eyes shot open as realization dawned on her. This was her boss. She was making out with her boss, in a club, and who she was supposed to write an article on.

Too soon, too late, she jerked back, shoving Vegeta away and breaking all contact. Sound and color once more rushed in, dizzyingly clear. But Bulma's eyes were wide open, glued on the man before her, dread oozing into her being. What had she done?

Vegeta blinked, the music washed over him, becoming all too clear once more. His eyebrows furrowed together, a crease folding between them as he inquired her shocked gaze. What was the female thinking? How dare she pull away from him?

He reached out for Bulma, craving her touch, their passion. His hand skimmed hers, and she winced.

She shied away from his touch, her head dizzy from the kiss. She could still feel the leftover heat on her lips, now red and tingling.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Ouji," she said hurriedly stepping away. "We can't—I have to go."

Part of her wanted to stay and dance with him all over again, but she couldn't. This was the man she could not—no, would not—fall in love with. She would ultimately regret it for God's sake!

"I'll see you tomorrow," Bulma said quickly, not giving Vegeta a chance to respond. She turned her heel, quickly getting lost in the sea of people, her heart pounding with each step.

 _Tch, there are other woman here._ His dark gaze followed her, a scowl tugging his lips. In the corner of his right eye, he caught sight of a lean blonde. With a grunt, he swiveled on his heel toward the direction of the bar.

* * *

 **Alright, chapter 5! I'm making it up in this world. ;)**

 **I love to hear comments, whether it be through PM or a review! Leave me constructive criticism-trust me, I can handle it. ;)**

 **If you have any questions, comments, or concerns, just drop me a review or PM - I am happy to reply.**

 **R &R.**

 **Until next time!**


	6. Chapter 6

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing of Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z, or GT. I'm just a happy little camper (student) who writes in her free time, and hangs out with her dogs. Additionally, the cover photo is a photo I found from surfing on the internet and belongs to the rightful owner (whoever it may be)._**

 _ **Can you blame me? It was a sexy picture of Vegeta.**_

 ** _Beta: Myself._**

 ** _Posted: 4-16-16_**

* * *

Anxiety curled and unfurled within her stomach for a second time that month; it crawled to her hands, paralyzing them. She stared blankly at the large, lined notepad with a frown and a gentle sigh. Crumpled sheets of sun-colored paper laid strewn around her, decorating her floors with unusable ideas for her article.

"Damnit," Bulma swore, throwing the notepad and pen down onto her mattress. "I have nothing!" She moaned while slumping down onto the comfort of her brown duvet, another sigh escaping her lips.

People always did claim that you could not force writing; of course, she did not believe it until now.

Snuggling further into the comfort of her bed, she closed her eyes, hoping to catch a wink of sleep. However, every time her eyelids slid shut, all she could see was him.

Why, oh why did they have to kiss? She could not afford such petty mistakes! Especially when it could possibly impact her undercover identity, and the rivalry between Ouji Enterprises and Capsule Corporation.

Her heart wrenched violently within her chest, causing her to seize in emotional pain. Water welled behind her eyes as her throat tightened while a burning sensation formed within her tear ducts.

If the bastard - whoever he was - was not attacking her father's company, she would not have to deal with any of this stress. She could have avoided working for Wall Street and dodged a possible affair with Vegeta all together.

At this point though, it was too late.

She was running out of time to write her story.

With a loud sniffle, Bulma rolled over onto her backside, glaring at the popcorn ceiling. Unfortunately, she did not have time to lay around all day - she had a job to begrudgingly return to.

Forcing herself to look at her alarm clock, she gasped loudly as the red digits flashing at her. Terror filled within her being, causing her heart to race and palms to sweat.

"Eeek!" Bulma shrieked, rolling off of the bed and onto the floor with a thud. She stumbled out of bed while rushing toward her bathroom. Each cell beneath her skin was vibrating, pumping the "wake-up" adrenaline through her veins as she turned the nozzle of the shower on. "Shit!"

It was ten-thirty in the morning, and she was bound to be in for a hell of a day.

* * *

"Where the hell is that insolent female?!" Vegeta snapped, pacing in front of his desk. He folded his hands behind the small of his back, the wings of his suit jacket fanning out slightly.

Tarble wrung his fingers together, sitting on a couch within the square-cut center of the room. He watched Vegeta with concern as he flew off into a whole new realm of thoughts. Was this because of their father's presence yesterday? Or...was it because of Cyan?

Vegeta ground his teeth together impatiently, his left brow twitching. The hairs on the back of his neck stood tall, his blood pumping quickly throughout his veins. He could not stop thinking about that cursed kiss from the night before.

Despite drowning himself within over a quarter of a bottle of whiskey, he still remembered the way her plump lips glided against his. His fingers curled slightly, preventing him from trembling with pent-up frustration.

It was different from the others, it was...filled with a genuine passion.

 _No_ , he inwardly chastised, pausing his pacing. _It was just like the rest. She is merely another distraction like all of the other women I have bedded._

The younger Ouji bit his cheek before daring a quiet, "What's wrong?"

Vegeta pivoted on his wing-tipped heel and locked gazes with his brother. "Nothing," he spat, his eyes narrowing while his jaw flexed angrily.

Tarble stood, cautiously nearing his brother with a pout. Rays of the sun lit the right side of Vegeta's face, illuminating his jawline. Where had that bruise come from? "That bruise, did father…?"

Vegeta nodded numbly in confirmation, turning his back toward his brother. His shoulders were tense as he closed his eyes, refusing to look back at the pitiful gaze he knew he would be met with. "He was paid due respects for the injury."

Deciding that it was the best for them both, Tarble quickly changed the subject. "Uhm, well then," he cleared his throat. "Because of your current...distractions," Tarble waved a free hand metaphorically in the direction of Bulma's office. "Would you like me to take on more work? You know, I think I could handle it and all. Especially now since that Cyan has actually been working, unlike your past secretaries."

Vegeta remained silent for a few moments before releasing a heavy, reluctant sigh. His brother did have a point, and perhaps it would give him time to clear his mind of his wretched secretary. "I will give you a small sector of conglomerates to look over and advise for demolition," Vegeta begrudgingly stated, turning to face Tarble. "You will not receive any of the bigger takeovers until you have proven yourself to me with good work, understand?"

Tarble grinned, nodding with excitement.

A pang struck Vegeta's heart. His smile was exactly like their mother's.

"Alright, 'Geta!" Tarble laughed, dimples appeared upon his upper left cheek. "I'm ready for the work whenever you are willing to hand it ove-"

The heavy cedar door flung open, revealing a panting and very frazzled Bulma. Her free hand was patting down her rooster tail at the crown of her head, while the other struggled to hold a mountainous pile of paperwork.

The top buttons of her sheer white blouse were open, allowing a view of sweat to dribble between the crevice of her bouncing breasts.

"Sorry!" she struggled to say through heavy inhales, "I'm late...Unexpected turn of eve..." Bulma paused her sentence, audibly gulping at the stare she received from her employer.

Vegeta's face contorted into a look of disdain, a scowl tugging at the corner of his lips. His inky orbs were cold, dangerous.

Tarble glanced back and forth between the two, suddenly making the connection of who was the source of causing Vegeta's foul mood. "Uh...well, I'll be waiting in my office for that work, Vegeta," Tarble chuckled nervously. He shot an apologetic gaze toward Bulma before waving, pivoting on his heel and making a bee-line toward the exit.

Once the door clicked firmly shut, the tension within the room kept rising, crackling. It crashed in the space between them like a tsunami, and both of them were drowning within their unwanted thoughts of the significant other.

Bulma chewed the meaty inside of her cheek, tearing her gaze away from Vegeta while finding an extreme interest in the stairs leading to the couch pit in the center of the room.

The President curled his fingers into fists, his lower jaw muscle flexing with irritation. He winced as the bruise along his jaw stung from the movement. How dare she ignore him?! Did she not know the things he was capable? Both pleasant, and unpleasant? Oh, how he wanted to fire this little issue…

Finally breaking under his drilling gaze, she brought her eyes back toward his. With a weak smile, she walked toward him, holding out the stack of papers she dragged along with her through the front door. "I finished these last night," her voice rose a decibel at the word night, "what else can I do for you this morning?"

Vegeta inwardly smirked. Good, he thought as he took the documents from her, it's bothering her. "There's a pile of things for you to do on your desk, they have been there since eight this morning," he chuckled at her blush, plopping the papers upon his desk before brushing past her. "I believe I will be taking a lunch break," he stated with a wicked smirk, cackling as her jaw dropped in disbelief. "I'll see you within the hour."

* * *

"So…" loud smacks were emitted from Raditz's chomping, his teeth gnashing together. "What's the deal?"

A heavy sigh escaped the flame-haired man sitting on the opposite side of the booth from Raditz. His eye twitched in annoyance at the oaf's lack of manners, his lip curling in disgust. Nonetheless, he grabbed a pair of heavy set chopsticks, holding them gracefully in one hand.

He pinched a slice of chicken between the wooden sticks, popping the seasoned meat within his mouth. "That blasted female," he snapped after swallowing. He tossed a small mound of sticky rice within his palate before continuing, "She is an issue."

Radditz dragged his tongue along his upper teeth while smirking. "Pfft, she didn't seem like an issue the other night!"

Vegeta glared while shoving food into his mouth. He could still remember the night before, clear as day. The feel of Bulma's body dancing with his. The searing, drunken kisses between them. And the worst part was that he wanted more; he could not get her out of his mind.

As if adding to venom to the already poisonous situation, she ran away from him. Vegeta could not fathom why the hell she would reject him, the heir of Ouji Enterprises.

"She's a nuisance," Vegeta spat, his grip around the chopsticks tightening. "She even came to work late this morning—obviously, she's slacking off. That incompetent woman needs to be fired."

The long-haired man rolled his eyes, shoving a large slab of pork within his mouth. "Theb bire fer," he muffled through a mouthful of food before swallowing. "Then fire her. Obviously, you haven't done the deed in...a few weeks, which is probably why you're such a prick right now."

Vegeta growled, his nostrils flaring angrily at the insult. "Unlike past secretaries," he grounded, ignoring Raditz's jab, "she is somewhat useful. It will be troublesome to employ someone else while my father is breathing down my neck."

And to honestly, Vegeta had never met such an enticing woman, someone to match his wits. The fact that she rejected him—him—only made him want her more. Caught between this attraction for her and firing her was infuriating.

Raditz paused chewing, his cheeks full like a chipmunk as he lowered his brows. Was Vegeta actually making an excuse to keep the girl? A smear of barbeque sauce stained Raditz's upper left corner of his lip and he stared at Vegeta dumbfounded.

"Do you...?" he could not even fathom to finish the sentence. Vegeta liking someone was a preposterous accusation! But, he had to know. "...like Cyan?"

At that, Vegeta sputtered on his drink. He hacked, coughing up the liquid in his throat. His face turned an interesting shade of rubicund.

"Of course not, you moron!" Vegeta said, but his thoughts did not match up to his words. Bulma was unlike any woman he had come across. Not only was she stunning, she was also intelligent, and that was insanely attractive. But Vegeta was by no means about to admit that.

The heir leaned back in his seat, his face set in a stubborn, irritated scowl. "Cyan is attractive, yes, but that's all there is to it. Nothing more. When I'm done with her, she won't be sticking around for long."

"Huh," Raditz chuckled, shaking his head as he set his chopsticks down. He rested his burly forearms upon the sleek black table, leaning in toward his friend. "Funny thing, Vegeta," he snickered, a smile curling the corners of his mouth, "how do you plan to get into her pants? Think you might manage by at least the fourth date?"

"That's pathetic," Vegeta scoffed, turning to meet Raditz's stare head-on. He raised a brow. "Who the hell do you think I am? Two weeks is all I need, no more, no less."

If it was one thing Vegeta was skilled in, it was charming any woman in his path, and Cyan would be no exception. He had full confidence that she would be his in a matter of time.

"And if she isn't?" Raditz quirked a brow as his left hand lazily wrapped around his glass of scotch. He tilted his head, causing the murky substance to glide down his throat. After swallowing, he grinned at Vegeta with a knowing look. "If she isn't in your bed at sometime within the next two weeks and not fired," he held up a hand, not allowing for Vegeta to interrupt. "Then I will officially declare that you like this woman."

"That's hardly a challenge, not to mention idiotic," Vegeta said, splaying an arm lazily over the seat of the booth. He drummed his fingers around his own glass before downing the alcohol in one gulp.

So, two weeks it was. Within that time, all Vegeta had to do was seduce Cyan and fire her. It would all be too easy.

Raditz chuckled, his laugh echoed off of the crystal glass pressed against his thin lips. "So, you accept to the terms that if you do not lay with her and do not fire her, you like her?"

Vegeta slammed his hand on the table, straight down Radtiz's nose. The table shook, nearly knocking down their meals. He was rather sick of Raditz forgetting exactly who worked for who here.

"I assure you I don't like that woman at all," he said lowly, glaring. "So agreeing to your so-called 'bet' is useless. Two weeks—" Vegeta held up two fingers, "—she's gone."

Raditz held his arms up in surrender, his smirk never fading. "Alright, but remember this day Vegeta. Because if this is that one day where I get to rub this in your face years from now, I will savour every moment."

A vein bulged on Vegeta's forehead and his lips scrunched in disgust. There was no way in hell he would ever let Radtiz get the satisfaction of one-upping him. And, there was no way he would ever get attached to Cyan, no matter how much she endeared him.

"Save your breath," Vegeta said, settling back down into his seat. "I don't like that woman in the slightest. You're deluding yourself."

"Whatever you say, your majesty," Raditz chuckled, rolling his eyes as he watched Vegeta stare off into space once more. "Whatever you say..."

Vegeta ignored Raditz, bringing the rim of his glass to his lips. Two weeks was all he needed, and he would make sure everything would go according to plan.

There would be no exceptions.

* * *

Bulma lightly nibbled on the tips of her manicured fingernails, her eyes squinting as she focused on her bright computer screen. At this point in the day, she had completed the majority of her work. Without the help of her boss.

Oh, her boss!

Her eye twitched in annoyance as she forcefully pounded at the keys of her keyboard with one hand. Who the hell did he think he was, just leaving the office for five hours?! Was he insane?!

She supposed he was allowed to leave the office on a few occasions, but this? This was unacceptable! _You don't just leave your secretary for five hours, and expect all sign-offs and reports completed!_ she fumed, screaming internally as she cursed her superior.

"Better watch your back, Ouji," Bulma muttered darkly, leaning back in her chair with a sigh. "I'm going to get you back, good…"

Shoving herself away from her desk, Bulma began to swivel within her leather chair. To-and-fro, left and right, resting her hands behind her neck.

The world around her became blurry, much like her current emotions about her drop-dead gorgeous boss. _He is very handsome..._ she internally admitted, releasing a heavy sigh as she slapped a hand to her forehead.

"Think appropriate thoughts, idiot!" she mumbled to herself, closing her eyes as a low moan escaped her throat. _But, I don't want to!_ her subconscious argued as it began displaying vivid images of her Vegeta, stripping in front of her….

"Goddamn you, Bulma!" she huffed, shaking her head furiously. Before she could continue arguing with herself, the door leading to Vegeta's office slammed shut. Her ears twitched slightly as she reopened her eyes, a new fury burning within her chest.

The bastard had returned!

Oh, how she was going to tell him off!

Whipping out of her chair, she stormed through her door, and into his office with a snarl. "Five hours?!" she screeched, her bloodshot eyes twitched as her hands curled into fists. "Where the hell were you?!" she demanded, watching in fury as he simply ignored her, making his way toward his desk. "Hello?! Earth to asshole! Are you ignoring me?!"

Vegeta's mouth was set into his typical frown, his secretary not bothering him one bit. I will conquer her, Raditz. He inwardly challenged the non-apparent companion as he began to pass the blue-haired beauty.

Bulma's jaw dropped in an shocked awe. Was he really ignoring her?! "Oh, hell no!" Bulma exclaimed, stomping over to his desk and slamming her palms down. "You cannot and will not igno-"

"Shut up, woman! I cannot stand your constant bickering!"

"Oh, really?! How about I bump it up to the next level, buddy ol' pal!"

"Bump what up, exactly?" he snapped, a sneer curling over his pearly whites. "A decibel to your already squealing voice?!"

A gasp escaped her, but all she could do was stare at him blankly, stamping her foot like a petulant child.

By now, Vegeta and Bulma were centimeters apart, their noses a breadth away from one another. Additionally to the awkward silence between the corporate duo, Bulma was glaring at the victorious smirk upon Vegeta's face.

Before she could retort with a snappy comeback, Vegeta's lips were firmly planted against hers. A flush of regret washed over her being before fleeting as her eyes closed.

Bulma's heart pounded wildly within her chest as her hands snaked around Vegeta's broad neck. Her fingers teasingly curled within his thick locks, digging into his scalp as the kiss became fueled with raw desire.

The heat that radiated between them made them glow within their passion, having them yearn for more.

Vegeta's hands traveled the curves of Bulma's body, the pads of his fingers leaving an electrified trail. His hands then squeezed the curve of her hips as his fingers dug into her soft flesh. A low groan escaped him as he brought her hips to his, their pelvis' creating a perfect match.

Briefly, the heiress's brain shut down due to the intensity of their unexplainable kiss. With each pucker of his lips' glide against hers, and each shape-shifting movement of their mouths, a delicious smack of air was shared between them.

Teeth clashed against teeth, and their tongues began dueling one another for dominance, neither one letting up.

The hairs on Bulma's neck stood vigilant, ready to fly off of her neck at any moment as she squeezed her arms for more support.

Atop Vegeta's left brow, a small bead of sweat slipped within his thick, ebony hairs.

A tremor rolled down Bulma's spine as she ground her hips against his, feeling the bulge within his pants pressed flush against her belly. With a sharp intake of breath, Bulma pulled away, panting.

Vegeta's hooded eyes connected with hers as he offered her a weak smirk. "Clear your schedule for tomorrow, and dress comfortably," he stated with a heavy sigh, "and for the love of God, be on time."

She blinked. Once more; twice. Her mouth fell open as a weak, "Why?" slipped through her lips.

"No whats, ifs, or buts, just do it, you infuriating woman!"

Bulma dragged her tongue over the fullness of her lower lip, causing Vegeta's cock to twitch. Why does she fucking tempt me?! he grumped, growling as she pulled away from his touch.

"Yes, Mr. Ouji," she squeaked, looking away from him as she nodded. "I will see you tomorrow then."

Before she could allow him to come up with Kami knows what type of work, she had zipped out of the room, frazzled more than ever.

A dark chuckle bubbled from Vegeta's throat as he leaned against his desk, arms folding above his torso.

Cyan would fall to him - and she would be his.

* * *

 **I'm so, so sorry for the late update! I totally spaced it last weekend, and thought I had updated! I come back this weekend, only to realize I hadn't. xD I know, I'm terrible. Fortunately for all of you lovely readers, I have been preoccupied writing the sequel. ;)**

 **Now, as for this story-it's going to be a long one. You guys will hate me at the ending of POWs, but I just gave you a clue in that everything won't be over. It'll all just...be downhill before looking up, again.**

 **Anyways, things will definitely start picking up here after the next two chapters. My writing around chapter 9 definitely started improving-even I could tell!-and, I think you guys will thoroughly enjoy the cute dates I have set up for these two lovers.**

 **I love to hear comments, whether it be through PM or a review! Leave me constructive criticism-trust me, I can handle it. ;)**

 **If you have any questions, comments, or concerns, just drop me a review or PM - I am happy to reply.**

 **R &R.**

 **Until next time!**


	7. Chapter 7

**_Hello, readers! I'm sorry that I've been gone two weeks (SIGH)! Not going to lie when I say I totally forgot to update. I know, I'm horrible, right? Just for you guys though, I'll be posting the next chapter in a day or two to make up for the missing updates!_**

 ** _Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING OF DB, DBZ, OR GT. ALL BELONGS TO AKIRA TORYIAMA!_**

 ** _Posted: 5-14-16._**

* * *

A small yawn escaped Chi-Chi as she shimmied down beside her friend atop her comforter. Despite being dressed in a tight pencil skirt and grey blouse, she still always tried a way to make herself comfortable.

"You know, Bulma," she yawned again, covering her mouth with a small hand. "It's almost seven-thirty. Shouldn't you be trying to get ready?"

Wide-eyed with frazzled bed-head, Bulma turned her head toward her friend with a sloppy smile. "Nah," she yawned, narrowing her eyes at her friend. "And stop yawning," she gurgled through morning breath, "you're making me yawn."

"And you're making me sick!" Chi-Chi declared, scrunching her nose in disgust as Bulma's breath seeped into her pores. "Go brush your teeth!"

Bulma threw her head back and laughed, her eyes shining in amusement. Teasingly, she crawled toward her with her mouth opened wide.

"Knock it off!" Chi-Chi gasped, shoving Bulma away with a large grin. The two best friends were illuminated by the soft glow of the television and rising morning sun. "I don't even know how anyone can like you, ack!"

The heiress snickered before punching Chi-Chi's arm, and flopping back into her claimed territory. With television remote in hand, Bulma began to flicker through numerous shows, not finding anything interesting. "You know, there's nothing good this early in the morning," Bulma thoughtfully noted aloud, receiving a huff from the girl beside her.

"B, you reall-" Chi-Chi was cut off by the raucous tone of Bulma's phone, and she sighed. "Pick it up."

Bulma smiled apologetically before grabbing the lit up screen, bringing it to her face as she answered, "Hello?"

"Hey, Cyan," a thick, husky voice responded. "It's Raditz."

"Raditz?" Bulma wrinkled her nose. "How did you get my number?"

"I have my ways."

She could practically feel his smirk through the phone, and Chi-Chi rose an expectant brow.

"So," Bulma drawled, pursing her lips. "You called, because…?"

"Vegeta wanted to know if you'd be on time today."

"He's already there?!"

"Yeah, he typically is. Not sure why he wants you in so early," he snickered, betraying his own words. "Have you started getting ready?"

Bulma huffed into the receiver, rolling her eyes once more. "Just leave me alone, I'll get there when I get there!"

"He is expecting you by ni-"

Before he could reach the concluding boon of his sentence, Bulma hung up with a swift click.

"So," Chi-Chi smirked. "You going to start getting ready?"

Bulma plopped back onto her creaky mattress, swiping the television remote from her bedside counter. "Tch. What do you think?"

* * *

Raditz sighed as he rested the security phone back within its cradle before rubbing his eyes.

Goku leaned back within his chair with his hands behind his head, grinning at his brother. "So, is she gettin' ready?"

"I think that's highly unlikely," Raditz, shaking his head. "You should go check on her, just to be sure. Vegeta'll be pissed if she's late today."

"Huh?" Goku questioned cluelessly, scratching his head. "But isn't he alway mad when she's late? What makes today different?"

"No reason," Raditz shrugged before pointing toward the doorway, "Now, go!"

* * *

"Okay, seriously," Chi-Chi groaned, shaking her head as Bulma flapped her hands around. "Was it really necessary for you to paint your nails?"

"Yes!' she cried, flailing her arms as she paced the room frantically. "They needed to be redone, and it only took twenty minutes anyways!"

"Exactly!" The raven-haired female exasperated, shaking her head. "Emphasise on twenty minutes! And, you've been waving your arms around like an idiot for the past five minutes. Aren't they dry yet?!"

Bulma abruptly stopped pacing, bringing her spread fingers toward her other hand. Carefully, with her tongue poking out from her lips, she touched a nail with the pad of her finger…!

"They're dry!" she chirped, smiling widely as she hopped over a pile of clothes. Unwittingly, she stumbled and she tried to regain footing before bursting into her bathroom. "I'll be out soon!"

* * *

The unruly-haired man scratched behind his ear nervously as he glanced down at a ripped piece of paper. "Uh...dontcha think this is kinda weird?"

"No, Kakarot," Raditz groaned, pushing his brother's backside toward the doorway. "Just go, that's her address that was in the files. Just say you're picking her up or something!"

"M'kay!"

* * *

The metallic shower head above her sprayed steamy water against her skin, soothing her aching muscles. With a content sigh, Bulma squeezed a bottle of shampoo and lathered the soap within her hands.

Bringing her fingers to her hair, she dug into her scalp as bubbles danced within her blue locks. The hair that was knotted over time slowly pulled apart by the work of her fingers, and she sighed in content.

Closing her eyes, she saw Vegeta. Why did he want her to come in early for the day? She supposed she had been late for...oh, the last two weeks. At the end of the day, he never seemed to care as long as she completed the job.

However, he said to dress casually? She had never gotten that request from him before. Sure, it was Friday and it could possibly mean casual Friday, although it was still odd.

Additionally, Raditz called her to make sure she was getting ready? Strange indeed.

"Tch, I don't want to get my hopes up for a date. It doesn't need to be that," she muttered, washing away the soapy mass within her locks.

Soon enough, a loud pounding echoed off of the bathroom walls. "Bulma!" Chi-Chi's voice shouted over the loud noise of water running through pipes. "It's almost eight fifteen, hurry up!"

"I'm almost done!" she yelled back, her eyes narrowing in frustration as she muttered, "Geez!"

Chi-Chi huffed loudly, placing her hands firmly on her hips in a mother-like fashion. Just as she was about to open her mouth to snap at Bulma's haughty attitude, a soft knock came from the front door.

Her heart plummeted within her chest as she snapped her head in the direction of the door. Why was there someone at the door? She knew she was the only one that had Bulma's secret address. Unless...the paparazzi had found her?!

Stalking toward the door quietly on her tippy-toes, another knock resounded off of its hollow wood. With stealth that she did not know that she possessed, Chi-Chi silently pressed her hands against the door, leaning her face in toward the peep hole.

Behind the small, circular glass stood a tall, handsome man with a friendly grin.

Goku? Chi-Chi thought, puzzled as she began to unlock the door. What in the world…?

As the door swung open, Goku's smile grew wider. "Hiya, Cyan!" he chirped as his eyes landed on a different female. "Oh...uhm," he chuckled nervously at the raven-haired female who looked at him expectantly. _I swear I have seen her before...but, where?! Oh! The lunch! But, what is her name?! Gosh, she looks different with her hair down!_

Watching as Goku struggled internally to most likely remember her name, Chi-Chi frowned slightly. _Oh well,_ she sighed, pursing her lips. _Everyone likes Bulma more anyways._ She moved to the side, holding out her arm with a smile. "Come on in, Goku. B-...Cyan will be just out of the shower in a minute."

Goku stepped inside the small studio apartment, his hands behind his head. He watched Chi-Chi intently as she shut the door before scurrying past him, and out of the doorway. She's kinda weird, he thought with a grin before following closely behind her. But then again, weren't all women weird?

"Chi-Chi!" he blurted, his eyes widening in disbelief as his grin grew wider. Wow, I can't believe I remembered her name! "You're Chi-Chi, right?" he questioned as she whipped around to face him, her lips parted. His heart thundered within his chest cavity as he tilted his head, staring at the transfixed girl.

She nodded weakly in response, words not willing to escape her lips.

"Geez," he laughed nervously, grabbing at the nape of his neck with a half-smile. "I'm never any good with names, but I am good with faces!" his eyes brightened as a dimple appeared in his right cheek. "And you look so different with your hair down!"

"Different how?!" Chi-Chi blushed furiously as she began running her hands through her hair, hurrying to place it up in her usual bun. She stopped almost immediately as Goku waved his arms frantically in front of him.

"N-no!" he cried, walking toward her before grabbing her forearms. "I meant a good different," he offered her a grin, and she looked away, bashfully. "You should wear it down more often!"

Chi-Chi melted against his warm, gentle touch, her blush becoming more evident. "Uhm, I'll just wear it down then," she squeaked, her eyes meeting his before casting away to the floor.

Before Goku could respond, Bulma sashayed out of the bathroom with a red towel firmly wrapped around her.

"WHAT THE HELL?!" she shrieked, and both Chi-Chi and Goku glanced in her direction. "No, no, no! Goku, turn around!"

The unruly haired man turned away, a red tint dusting his cheeks as he closed his eyes. He felt a slim hand within his palm, tugging him around a bed. Once on the opposite side of the bed facing the wall, Chi-Chi pressed down on his shoulders.

"Don't turn around, okay?" Bulma huffed, crossing her arms over her chest as she glared at Chi-Chi. "Both of you," she stressed.

Chi-Chi rolled her eyes before plopping beside Goku, eyes facing the wall.

"So, Goku," Bulma began as the evident sound of hangers scraping a metal bars echoed throughout the room. "What brings you to these neck of the woods?"

 _Just tell her you're picking her up…_ "Raditz sent me!" he admitted, tensing slightly. "He said somethin' about giving you a ride so you arrive early?"

Bulma released a snort of disbelief before she tossed one outfit toward the ground in displeasure. "Oh please, I'll be on time! Besides, I have my own car!"

"That is bound to break down at any moment!" Chi-Chi argued, her eye twitching in annoyance. "You need a new one!"

The heiress gasped loudly, placing a hand over her heart. "How dare you speak like that about Penelope? After all the rides she has given you!"

Goku tensed slightly. He did not do well with arguments! Unwittingly, he squeezed his hands, realizing that he and Chi-Chi's fingers were interlaced. A jolt ran up his arm and struck his heart, causing it to skip a beat.

Her chocolate brown eyes casted toward their joined hands, and she blushed furiously while she began pulling away. However, he just squeezed her small hand again, causing her to just leave the situation alone.

"Can we turn around yet?" Goku whined, pretending as if nothing had happened.

"No! I'm deciding on what to wear!"

Goku and Chi-Chi groaned simultaneously. "How long does it take you to find and outfit?!" he cried, pouting.

"A l _oooong_ time," Chi-Chi sighed, shaking her head.

"Is a dress casual?"

"Just wear jeans!" the cute duo exclaimed in unison before groaning.

"Alright!" Bulma sighed, plucking a pair of high-waisted blue skinny jeans from her closet. She poked both of her feet inside before squirming and jumping to place them on. Grabbing a long-sleeved red shirt from a drawer, she pulled it over her head with a sigh. She quickly grabbed a pair of beige colored ankle boots, and slipped her feet inside.

"Shit!" she cursed, glancing at the clock. "It's ten to nine, gotta run you guys!"

"But, Bulma!" Chi-Chi cried, whipping around to face her friend who was rushing toward the door. "I need a rid-" the door slammed shut.

Goku turned toward her with a large grin, eyebrows raised. "Do you need a ride?"

Chi-Chi bit the inside of her cheek before smiling, giving him a slight nod. Perhaps it was best that Bulma was always late!

* * *

"Hn. It's acceptable."

The ash brown entrance swung open, slamming against the firm walls to its sides. "I-I'm here!" Why was it that misfortune always seemed to smile down upon her, and reign its terror? For Kami's sake, she was one hour late because of the damned traffic!

Vegeta's eyes casted away from his brother and Raditz toward a small female at his doorstep, and he had to refrain from rolling his eyes. Her hair was matted unattractively to her sticky forehead, her cheeks a flaming maroon.

With a heaving chest, she shot her boss a weak, timid smile. A nervous laugh escaped her ruby lips as she fanned herself with a well-manicured hand. "Uh...sorry for interrupting?"

"Tch!" A growl rumbled through Vegeta's chest as he turned away from the petty woman, sticking his nose high in the air. "Raditz, Tarble. You are dismissed."

The tone of his husky voice left no room for objection, so the duo silently slid past their female co-worker with apologizing gazes.

When the door creaked shut, Bulma released a heavy sigh she did not even realize that she was holding. "I'm really so..."

"Your work is on your desk," he snapped, rubbing the bridge of his nose in irritation. Apparently he would have to alter his plans today, according to her schedule. Turning away from her he walked toward his desk, a frown carving into his cheek. "I expect it to be completed within the next few hours. By four this afternoon, the latest."

Bulma's fingers twitched with irritation as her brows lowered over her eyes, a scoff threatening to escape her. _Seriously?! What an ass!_

"Fine."

* * *

4:38.

It had been seven, long, uneventful, and hateful hours.

Her wrist hurt, and her cramping fingers refused to unfurl as she threw her ballpoint pen down upon her desk with a huff. What asshole decides to give his secretary three piles of paperwork, and expect it finished within a minimum of seven hours?!

Apparently, Mr. Ouji.

She ground her teeth angrily as she scowled at the sheets of fine-grain below, sneering at them in disgust.

What did she expect, honestly? For him to whisk her off of her feet, and to ride into the sunset? Maybe. But, that was beside the point! Perhaps she read a little too much into romance novels, but it was good to rejuvenate teenage girl fantasies, right?

"Ugh!" she moaned, leaning back in her office chair, puttering her lips as her eyes focused on the ceiling. She should not have expected anything from that foul man! Why did she? She knew his motives, and she knew what he wanted - did it prevent her from ever hoping?

Unfortunately, no.

Light, airy footsteps echoed in her eardrums, and she did even need to tear her gaze away from the ceiling to look at the intruder.

"Are you finished?"

A heavy sigh escaped her lips, the puff of air teasing a flyaway hair. "Yes," she deadpanned, rolling her eyes with a frown. "What's it to ya'?"

A calloused hand was shoved within the right pocket of his navy blue trousers and his left hand clutched his suit jacket. He tilted his head, eyes shining with a playful glint as he nodded toward the door. "Let's go."

Her mouth fell open before immediately snapped shut, an obstinate expression befalling her face. She crossed her arms over her chest stubbornly, shooting him a death glare.

"Well? There will not be a red carpet for your exit, female."

She glowered within his presence as she stood from her seat, stomping past him as she blew a raspberry in his direction.

Vegeta rolled his eyes.

* * *

As they stepped onto the bustling city streets in front of Ouji Enterprises, Bulma's flesh puckered against the crisp, spring air. A shudder rolled down her spine as she kept pace with Vegeta, glaring at the back of his skull.

"What's your motive, Vegeta?" she huffed as they turned a corner, her small feet rushing to catch up to him. She rubbed the undersides of her bare arms as gooseflesh scattered across her flesh as she waited for a response.

"I'm taking you out."

Bulma's jaw slacked as she released a high-pitched squeak, her eyes pooling with disbelief. "Are you friggin' kidding me?!" she exasperated, slapping his right bicep with a screech. "Why did you make me wait all day, asshole?!"

Vegeta's veins bulged along his forearms as his blood boiled, his body responding positvely from her anger. He enjoyed ruffling her feathers. "You still have a job, woman," he chuckled, causing her face to flush with embarrassment. "Besides, had you actually been on time, I would have taken you out sooner. Therefore, this is all directed back at you."

Pursing her lips and looking away from him in defeat, she silently conceded to his fair point.

"You still are a jerk," she grumbled, having nothing else intelligent to say.

He barked out a laugh, smirking victoriously before gently grabbing her forearm, and taking a left.

Bulma yelped with surprise, her eyes widening as they hurried down a cross-walk before arriving at the corner of Harbor Boulevard. She raised an inquisitive brow as he slowed his pace before abruptly stopping before a wooden shingled shack that slumped sideways.

A thick aroma of sizzling meat filled her sinuses, causing her stomach to roll angrily before releasing a growl. He chuckled slightly at the unlady like sound, causing her to blush.

Before he could open his mouth and create a snarky remark, a voice from within the shack erupted.

"Aye, Vegeda!" a dark-skinned man with a heavy accent greeted with a grin. "You here for some 'dogs?"

"Two, Ranjeet," Vegeta gave the man a slight nod as he began pulling out his wallet.

"Alrigh', man!"

"Hotdogs?" Bulma echoed, watching as the man sloppily decorated the two fat rolls with mustard and pickles. She turned toward her employer with a teasing smile, eyebrows raised. "You eat hotdogs? I assumed your palate would not be degraded so...low."

"Alright, Mr. Ouji and Missus, what's your of soda tonight?"

"Grape," Vegeta responded, receiving a bewildered expression from Bulma while the man behind the counter to laugh. Popping open the white top of the cooler, he pulled out two glass bottles and handed them toward the couple.

"Ten zeni, please," Ranjeet announced, handing over a white paper bag filled with a overzealous amount of food.

Vegeta slapped a small handful of cash down upon the splintered counter before giving a two-finger salute, turning away. He began walking toward the nearby pier as she called as she followed after him. "Alright, big shot, hotdogs? A pier?"

Vegeta chuckled before plopping down atop the last creaky plank, his feet hovering above the crisp paused as he was opening the white paper bag. "I said to dress casually, did I not?"

"Yeah," she chuckled, graciously taking the foiled wrapped dog handed to her as she sat. "But, I expected at least your ass to own a pier, and for the food to strategically fly down with a parachute attached."

"Please," he scoffed, unwrapping the foil, "even if that did happen, you'd still be bitching and moaning." He smirked before adding, "And not in the good way."

By the end of his comment, her hotdog was already resting against her tongue, and she could not help but laugh. Quickly taking a bite and winking flirtatiously toward him, she licked her lips sultrily. "Oh, what do you know about it, buster!"

Vegeta grinned wolfishly at her hidden innuendo, arousal building within him. "I am an expert in all things, Cyan."

"Pfft," she spluttered, rolling her baby blues before taking another bite. "So," she muffled through a mouthful of food, "why hot dogs, again?"

"Reminds me of a simpler time," he admitted, his shoulders going lax as he stared out into the East City Bay. "I'd take the brat to get a hotdog if the old man was being a bitch."

Bulma's eyes lost their teasing shimmer, instead, the corners of them softened. "Tarble?"

"Hn," he rumbled, taking another bite before swallowing thoughtfully. "I prefer brat."

A soft laugh fled past her lips as the corners of her mouth tugged upward. "I don't understand why you're so hard on him."

"You would not understand unless you had siblings, woman."

Bulma tutted slightly, clucking her tongue against the top of her mouth. "I have an older sister, and she's annoying as hell. Haven't seen her for years now, though."

Vegeta raised an inquisitive brow, his cheeks full of meat and bread. "Any particular reason?"

She shrugged, shaking her head. "Not sure. I just don't think she wanted much to do with us after she left for college."

"Where were you raised?"

 _Oh shit,_ Bulma inwardly cursed, exhaling heavily through her nose as she shook slightly. "West City," she squeaked, offering him a quick side-glance. "In Downtown."

A rumble of approval emitted from his chest as he popped off the cap of his soda. Taking a quick swig, he questioned, "What do your parents do?"

 _Double shit!_ "My dad's works in...auto repair, and my mother was a stay at home type of lady."

Vegeta's eyes narrowed in suspicion, but he did not question her reply. _Vague answers, Cyan...What are you hiding?_

"Hey, I know!" she chirped, smiling. "A round of twenty questions? I ask ten, you ask ten, and we have to answer honestly?"

The flame-haired man scoffed, rolling his orbs in annoyance. "What are you woman, twelve?"

"No," she smirked, "I'm twenty-seven. Why do you call Tarble a brat?"

His eyes bucked, his mouth gaping with surprise. Did she…? He growled with frustration before smirking. Oh, he would play. "Because he's one, just like you. How do you manage to dress so provocatively even when requested to dress casually?"

She winked, leaning back on one hand. "I must dress to impress, Vegeta. Why do you always wear suits?"

"I suit up because women fawn over it. Why, do you not find it attractive?"

"On the contrary, I find it extremely sexy but egotistical," Bulma whispered sultrily, giving him a saucy smile. "What's your favorite thing about your company?"

"I maintain and control my authority without fucking up," Vegeta smirked cockily, leaning down toward her. "However, why do you continuously question it?"

"Somebody has to!" she responded in a sing-song voice, smiling. "Why, do you not enjoy it?"

"Yes and no," he admitted, a frown tugging his lips. "As annoying as I find it, however, I find it extremely arousing and aggravating. You are the definition of a shit-head."

"Hey!"

Vegeta chuckled, cocking his head to the side. "What do you do in your freetime?"

"That's information only privy to me, Mr. Ouji," she winked, her eyes shining as she pursed her lips. "Why so curious?"

"I must know the weaknesses of all living things, Ms. Noall," he breathed, grinning toothily. "Do you find that bothersome?"

"I find that extremely hot, but sadistic. Are you a masochist by any chance?"

A smirk curled over his lips, his eyes dancing with mirth as his trousers seemingly tightened. "Perhaps. Would you like to find out?"

"Maybe another time," she admitted with a hidden promise, leaning toward him with a wicked smile. "When do you ever have fun?"

His chest vibrated with a throaty chuckle as he huskily replied, "Only one certain time, little one. Shall I give you another open invitation to figure it out?"

"Nope," Bulma popped the pronunciation on her _'p'_ , laughing. "Not really feeling it tonight, are you?"

"I always find time to feel it," he released a raspy laugh, drawing nearer to her face. "Are you sure that you are not the one that is a masochist?"

"Heavens no!" she giggled, waggling a brow suggestively. "Do you believe that I am?"

"No." In all honesty, Vegeta did not know what to believe. The adrenaline that pumped vigorously through his veins excited him, adding more to the sexual tension the two had already gathered within the last twenty minutes. However, he could not help but feel vulnerable toward the woman who had so easily deflected his questions by only giving vague answers. And, before he knew it, his last question tumbled out of his lips, "What are you hiding from me, Cyan?"

Bulma's skin relished in the warmth of his breath, her plump lips parting as her heart began to race wildly against her ribs. Instead of answering his question, she casted her gaze to the planks below, whispering, "What's your favorite color?"

"Blue."

Her widened eyes glanced at his and she lick the corner's of her mouth, her breathing slowing.

Reaching a reluctant hand to her oceanic locks, Vegeta gently twirled a strand of hair before drawing closer to her lips.

Within seconds, plump cushions against thin began fighting one another in a battle for dominance. Teeth clashed against teeth within the exchange, breathy gasps of air left Bulma and Vegeta wrapped a protective arm around her waist.

Before they could further their ministrations, however, a loud, disturbing buzz vibrated against Vegeta's thigh.

Once.

Twice.

A large growl ripped through Vegeta's torso as he pulled away from Bulma, ripping the phone from his pocket, snapping, "What?"

Bulma pouted as she was bereft of the heir's warm touch, and she turned her head to face the shimmering blue bay. A frown tugged her lips as she heard the frantic murmurs on the other end of the line, causing her to roll her eyes. Of course, work.

"I don't have ti-" Vegeta began, only to be cut off, creating another growl.

The frantic male voice on the other end grew louder, causing Vegeta's eye to twitch before he exploded. "Oh for fuck's sake, you incompetent shit!" he roared, abruptly standing from the planks as he began to pace. "How many times will this fucking happen before you learn from the same mistakes?!"

The blue-haired beauty folded her arms over her chest, frustrated. Although she could understand the situation Vegeta was in, that did not mean she was not displeased with the outcome of their date.

"I'll be there in ten minutes."

He swiftly ended the connection with the other line, causing him to scowl as he turned around to face Bulma's back. "I must return to the office. I will call you a taxi."

Bulma had to refrain from scoffing. A taxi?! No apology?! Ugh, jackass! She stood, brushing off her pants, refusing to turn around. "It's fine," she forced through clenched teeth, rolling her eyes. "I will walk home it's not far from here."

"Woman, I insi..."

"Vegeta, I'm fine," she snapped, whipping around to face him with a heated glare. "I'll see you tomorrow."

With little else to say, Bulma brushed passed him without looking back.

* * *

With a bottle of whiskey in hand, Vegeta's red eyes glared in the direction of his nemesis: the phone.

He leaned back within his leather cushioned rolly chair with a groan, rubbing his temple. Of course, Tarble had fucked up yet another contract with Poster Tech that almost costed them a large amount of profit.

 _The little shit will pay for that,_ Vegeta thought with a snort, resting his elbow upon the armrest. He squished his knuckles against his cheek as he continued his staring contest with the corded phone upon his mahogany desk.

All he had to do was pick it up, and force himself to apologize to the female.

 _Bah! Apologize?_ he thought with a wrinkled nose, casting his gaze toward the bottle in his hand before shaking his head. _I've drank too much._

After all, it was past two in the morning. And nothing ever good came past two.

Yet, with a dopey smirk, Vegeta's fingers wrapped around the coiled cord that was connected to the phone, contemplating...

* * *

 _ **Again, sorry for the...errors in these beginning chapters. I'm kinda lazy going over these chapters, because I really, REALLY focused heavily on the later chapters. Plus, I'm working on the sequel; however, I WILL come back to these first eight chapters one day, and edit them to make them more presentable to you lovely fanfiction readers. xD**_

 _Anyways, let me know your thoughts for this chapter! I appreciate any constructive criticism any of you may have for me. Also, I have joined tumblr! Look me up as "daughterofvegeta", and hopefully I'll pop up (literally just joined today, but I promise to get to posting once I understand the site a little more!)._

 _Thanks again, and don't forget to R &R!_

Until next time!

 _DoV_


	8. Chapter 8

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z, or GT. I'm just a happy little camper (student) who writes in her free time, and hangs out with her dogs. Additionally, the cover photo is a photo I found from surfing on the internet and belongs to the rightful owner (whoever it may be).**_

 _ **Can you blame me? It was a sexy picture of Vegeta.**_

 _ **Beta: Myself.**_

 _ **Posted: 5-28-16**_

* * *

Every Rose Has Its Thorns.

* * *

"Where do you wish to attend for lunch, woman?"

She had to refrain herself from scoffing, but she did roll her baby blues. Gritting her teeth while seething, she narrowed her eyes, shooting him a glare.

He had not even apologized for the abrupt stand up! No phones calls, no stupid texts, not even a decent email! Nothing. Nada. Zilch! He had some nerve expecting that everything would be normal the next day!

Bulma had not bothered showing up early. Oh no. She showed up as late as her pretty little ass wanted, and did she feel even remotely bad about it this morning? Ha! That was a joke, right?

Releasing an unattractive snort, she averted her gaze back to her computer screen without sparing him a second glance. "I'm just going to go home for lunch, Mr. Ouji."

Vegeta's left eye twitched as his fingers curled within his linen pockets. His veins bubbled beneath his skin, their sticky hot liquid searing to a boiling point. Had he not attempted several times this morning to reconcile with her?

Why was she in such a sour mood? He was a businessman, and it was expected to have the unexpected happen! There would possibly be other dates, and it was not as if he did not see her on a regular basis!

The muscles within his jaw flexed profusely as he casted his glare toward his office, his nostrils flaring with strained breaths. Time and time again, she outright refused him and it was preposterous! He had nothing to apologize for; nothing.

Cyan showed late, again. She refused to respond to two playful remarks earlier, and would flat out not answer his questions. And now? She declined the olive branch that he was outstretching - against his better judgement, of course!

With a choked growl tickling the marrow of his ribs, he scowled, looking back at her. His teeth glinted in the sun's light as he snidely turned his nose up at her."You are dismissed for your lunch, _Ms. Noall_."

Bulma glanced up from her game of Tetris with a smirk before quickly exiting out of the game. She pushed herself away from her desk and stood, holding her head high. "Good," she sniffed, swiping her purse from the table, "I couldn't wait to leave, anyway."

Before he had a chance to erupt into a yell, she had strutted past him, leaving him to roar in anger.

There was only one person that he could possibly think of that would know what to do.

And so God help him…

"Goddamnit."

* * *

The elevator's ding rang throughout the vacant hallways of the second floor, and the cranky heir of Ouji Corps exited through the golden doors.

His temple upon his forehead bulged, blood rushing toward his face and making his cheeks flush. How could a woman be so disrespectful?! So...so rejecting?!

"Bah!" he huffed, pushing through a doorway and entering a dark room. The only source of light were the hundreds of dimly lit television screens creating an eerie glow. His eyes scanned the what appeared to be deserted room, and he sighed.

However, had it not been the heavy, congested snores erupting from the scrap-metal chair three televisions down, he would have left.

Rolling his eyes with an exasperated sigh, the flame-haired man stood beside his younger companion before sneering. A jelly-filled donut lay half-eaten within his sticky hand upon his chest, and splatters of artificial purple stained his wrinkled, white shirt.

A white, powdery substance adorned his right cheek and around his thin lips. All the while, his mouth was wide open and releasing cantankerous snores.

Typical.

"Kakarot, wake up, dumbass!"

Jolting awake with a snort and wide-eyed, Goku yelped before falling flat on his rump on the tiled floor. "V-Vegeta?!"

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

"My job!" the unruly-haired adult cried, standing from the ground and rubbing his bottom with a frown. "My butt is sore!"

"Do you think your job entitles you to sleeping?!"

"Well, office time yes - out fighting time, no. This is the only hour I slack off, I promise!"

Vegeta scoffed, releasing a loud huff through his cracked lips.

"So, whattya need from me, best buddy?"

The heir of Ouji Enterprises halted, his stoic facade slipping slightly. He removed his hands from his pockets and folded his arms, gazing sternly at Goku. The corner of his lips flexed downward, and he drummed his fingers upon his bicep. How was he supposed to even question what he thirsted to know?

"People," Vegeta blandly began, the words tumbling from his voice box before he could prevent himself. "How do you interact with them so well?"

Goku grabbed the nape of his neck, scratching it with two fingers as he stared at Vegeta, puzzled. "Umhu," he breathed, his brows knitting together in concentration. "Whatta weird question, Vegeta…"

A snarl escaped his throat and Goku panicked as he held his hands up in defense.

"...But a good one!"

Quickly recomposing himself, Vegeta released a chuff before rolling his eyes at the easily intimidated dork.

"But, really," Goku began once more, rubbing the side of his face. "I just get along with people 'cuz...I like 'em, I guess. I like meeting new people, and talkin' to them. Why?"

Damn it, Vegeta inwardly cursed, flinching slightly. It was unfortunate that he was the polar opposite of the happy-go-lucky son of a bitch. "No reason," he stated coolly, turning his head away with embarrassment. "As for pleasing others when you...messed up, how do you offer them an apology?"

"Well, you just say sorry! It's as easy as that."

Vegeta's penny-sized heart tinkered down his rib cage, clinking against each bone. He could almost practically hear the animated noises of each clank. His posture slumped slightly as he brought a hand toward his tired eyes, rubbing them.

God, he did not want say _"sorry"!_ In his opinion, there was nothing to apologize for. As he opened his mouth to question the bumbling idiot further, two raucous idiots waltzed through the door.

"Wakey, wakey lil' brother!"

Goku and Vegeta groaned simultaneously.

Within seconds, a long-haired male along with the tall, bald-headed Nappa were in their sight. Raditz grinned like an idiot before it faltered slightly, shock slipping onto his features. "Wow, Vegeta is here for once."

"There's a first for everything," Nappa chimed in as the duo shared a snicker.

Vegeta growled warningly, and the two immediately clammed up.

"What are you here for, your majesty?" Nappa mocked, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"None of your damned business!"

"Anyways," Raditz drawled, directing his gaze toward his relative, "What's he here for, little bro?"

"I dunno!" Goku answered honestly with a shrug, his wide eyes shining with innocence. "He's askin' me weird things though."

Obviously, he did not understand the warning glare from Vegeta, because he continued.

"...And he's wonderin' about how I interact with people, and how you're supposed to know when to apologize."

Raditz and Nappa blanched before looking at each other, at Vegeta, and then back at one another. Quickly, their faces flushed a steaming crimson, and they howled with obnoxious laughter.

Goku blinked cluelessly, scratching the back of his head with uncertainty flashing within his orbs. "What, uhm, are we laughing at?"

The two men paused their laughter, their cheeks puffed with hot air and giggles. Eventually, Raditz snickered once more, Nappa joining his side. With enough laughter out of their systems, both of them were able to wheeze out Vegeta's name.

A growl ripped through the flame-haired man, and if one looked closely enough, they could see the crimson dusted along his cheekbones.

"Is...is," another chuckle bubbled from Raditz's lips as he clutched his lower abdomen, "is this about your secretary, by any chance?"

Vegeta's brows knitted together in frustration as he crossed his arms over his chest stubbornly, not replying to his long-haired colleague.

"Oh my God," Raditz gasped, his mouth wide open, baring his slightly crooked teeth, "It is!"

More cackles fled Nappa's mouth, causing him to slap a hand over his lips, stifling his immense joy. "Vegeta having problems with a woman? Holy shit, there is a first for everything!"

" _You guys_!" Goku whined, waving his hands to his sides with a pout. "Don't be so mean! This is Vegeta's first time actually liking someone!"

The flame-haired man's anger was brimming his imaginary lid, bubbles of rage overflowing and steaming out of his ears. His face was flushed crimson, and the intensity of his glare made up for his evident embarrassment, immediately clamming Raditz and Nappa up. Raising a hand, he swatted the backside of Goku's head, earning a yelp.

"I do not _like_ her, Kakarot," Vegeta seethed through the gaps of his teeth, "she is just another conquest. She is angered with me for reasons beyond me, and it is obvious that she cannot be used until she is no longer upset."

Goku merely rolled his eyes while offering Vegeta a "motherly" knowing look. "Alright," he began in a sing-song voice, "whatever you say, 'Geta!"

This time, the tall, unruly-haired male joined Raditz and Nappa in a small fit of snickering before he continued. "Just...I dunno, give her some flowers or something! Girls like that, I think. Maybe she'll think it's an apology."

Vegeta began to splutter, his eyes wide with surprise. "You think I am trying to apologize?!"

"Oh no," Raditz chimed in dramatically, placing a hand above his heart with a dreamy sigh. "We would never assume such a thing! But, be honest, Vegeta," he chuckled, winking at the heir, "it's not like you are good at verbal apologies."

"Why yo-"

"He does have a point, Mr. Ouji," Nappa chuckled, dragging his hand away from his mustache. "You do have a difficult time with apologies."

Vegeta released an angry snarl, his face beet red. "Feh. You all are idiots," he announced, turning on his heel before storming out of the room with a final holler, "and you can stay the hell out of my business."

Once he was out of earshot, Goku just blinked cluelessly, scratching the side of his head. "But…" he weakling chuckled, staring at his two companions with confusion, "didn't he come for me to be in his business?"

Nappa and Raditz roared with laughter that followed their boss's walk of shame.

* * *

"Not even a freaking apology," Bulma grumbled, stomping back into her office, slamming her door shut. She flung her briefcase into the chair in front of her desk as she mocked, " _'Where do you want to go to lunch?'_ Ha! As if!"

Her suede heels clacked loudly against the ground before she slumped into her leather chair. The heiress released a heavy sigh, covering her face with her face before rubbing her cheeks. "Bleugh," she moaned, removing her fingers from her face, her eyes landing on her laptop.

The screen of the laptop hovered closely to the keyboard, causing her to raise a single brow. Weird, she mused, pursing her lips. The keys were glowing white, and the screen was faintly illuminating the black keyboard. _I definitely closed this before I headed out…._

Her blue orbs scanned her desk, only to skim over a thick, green stem poking underneath the partially closed computer. Blinking rapidly with shock, Bulma's lips parted as she quickly pried the computer open.

Across the keyboard laid a single, blood-red rose.

A soft gasp escaped her as a faint smile spread across her lips like butter. Despite the tips of the petals being slightly wilted, the apologetic gesture was awfully a nice surprise.

Picking up the thorny, stiff stem, Bulma twiddled the flower between her thumb and forefinger. Giggling, she brought the rose to her nose, inhaling deeply. Pulling the bloom away from her face, she carefully gripped it within her palm, careful to not have the thorns prick her skin.

Unfortunately, the rose did not automatically warrant forgiveness for the way he acted.

It was time to find the man who had placed it there.

* * *

"Shit, shit, shit…"

"Tarble, stop freaking out."

"I can't, Raditz!" the spiky-haired male exclaimed, throwing his arms up in the air. He released an exasperated sigh as his fingers landed within his hair, pulling at the roots. "I may as well prepare my coffin, because Vegeta's going to kill me!"

"Okay, calm the hell down," Raditz demanded, gripping the younger male's shoulders, shaking him lightly. "Vegeta will not kill you. You have completed all of your work, and there is nothing to worry about. Why are you so wound up?"

Tarble released a sigh, placing his hands over his eyes and he began shaking his head. "Because, I don't know where I put some paperwork…"

Raditz shrugged his shoulders, waving a dismissible hand. "Paperwork, shmaperwork, what's the big deal about it?"

The shorter of the two peeked through the cracks of his fingers, glancing at Raditz before squeaking, "I lost the files about the federal incomes taxes for this last year..."

" _You what_?"

Both Raditz and Tarble stared at one another, their eyes wide and fearful. Of course, the voice that just rang through their ears was most certainly not the one that they wanted to hear. The duo's situation was currently taking a nosedive in what was bound to be hell.

"Vegeta!" Tarble exclaimed with a weak laugh, turning Raditz around and peering around the tall man's shoulder. "How nice of you to stop by!"

Tarble was shaking like a leaf while using Raditz as a shield, causing the long-haired man to roll his eyes. It truly was a wonder how the two Ouji's were related to one another. On the other hand, Raditz thought as his forehead began to perspire, I cannot blame Tarble for being scared shitless of Vegeta.

"Vegetaaaa," Raditz drawled, flashing the flame-haired man a wolfish grin in hopes to direct his anger elsewhere. "How's the sticky situation with Cyan going?"

"Cut it with the bullshit, both of you," Vegeta snapped, his eyes narrowing as he pushed himself from Tarble's office's doorway. "What did you screw up now, brat?"

"Oh, you know," Tarble shrugged, batting his lashes, "world domination."

Somehow, with that statement, Vegeta's lip curled upward ever so slightly.

"Obviously," he deadpanned, quirking a challenging brow. "You misplaced papers that involve Ouji Enterprises being the dominant technological producers in West City. We are rivalling Capsule Corporation, you idiot, and we need all the locations we can get our hands on."

"And," Raditz cut in, grinning, "we promise to find that...important paperwork, starting right now. But, like I was asking, is Ms. Noall still being a stickler?"

Vegeta opened his mouth to snap at Raditz, however, the bane of his existence had waltzed into the room, doing the job for him.

"A stickler?" Bulma scoffed, throwing her hair over her left shoulder with a huff. Her eyes narrowed dangerously as she snapped, "If anyone is the stickler, it'd be Porcupine over here!"

Tarble could not help the small laugh that slipped through his lips, only to earn himself a glare so intense and so hate-filled from Vegeta, it made him clutch Raditz's shirt. "Uh, Raditz, I think Goku said we needed to meet up with him right about...now!"

Gripping his long-haired companion's wrinkled shirt, Tarble charged out of his own office, shutting the door behind him with a swift click.

Vegeta's left eye began to involuntarily twitch with annoyance, and he ground his teeth angrily. Turning to face the blue-haired female, he growled. "Porcupine?!"

She smirked with a innocent shrug. "What else should I call you? Mr. Cactus?"

"Why you insufferable wom..!"

The president of Ouji Enterprises was abruptly cut off by a thorny rose being shoved beneath his nostrils, a pair of fiery baby blues staring him down. A single hand rested firmly against her hip as she pursed her lips.

"Did you give me this?!"

Vegeta growled, rolling his eyes. "Perhaps."

Bulma's facial features softened, and she gently pulled the rose away from his nose before stepping toward him. "Thank you, Vegeta," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his shoulders before she leaned in, pulling the man into a hug. Before he could react, she pulled away from him, frowning as she slapped his chest. "But, don't think that this solves anything!"

Vegeta frowned, huffing, "Nothing is ever solved between us, Woman."

Bulma blinked slowly before releasing a chuckle. "Actually…" she tilted her head, Chi-Chi coming to her mind, "there _is_ one thing you could do to fix that…"

* * *

"Look at them," Vegeta mused, bringing his wine glass to his lips, "they are squabbling like idiots!"

"Aw, come on, give them a break!" Bulma cooed, leaning back in their cushioned booth as the couple both stared out the window.

Across the dimly lit street, a tall, unruly-haired man and a raven-haired woman stood awkwardly. The man had a hand latched to the nape of his neck, holding a hand out toward the female in front of him.

The woman was evidently embarrassed and most likely flushed as she accepted the man's hand.

"Tch, woman, this was stupid."

"No, it was not!" Bulma chided with a small laugh, using her dessert spoon to break the sugary surface of their creme brulee. "I mean, think about it, would they both truly get together with anyone without our help? Honestly, Goku's an idiot and Chi-Chi's a prude. They'll work out together perfectly."

Vegeta barked out a laugh, shaking his head as he rested his crystal glass atop a green napkin. He grabbed his spoon before digging the utensil into the creamy dessert. "Do you enjoy playing matchmaker?"

"If it makes my friend happy," she grinned, lowering her spoon to the dish for another bite, "yes."

"Then you are just as idiotic as them."

Swallowing her last bite, Bulma placed her spoon down before playfully sticking out her tongue. "Whatever!" she exclaimed with a small laugh, ignoring as the waitress sauntered by and placed their check at the end of the table before disappearing. "You are simply jealous."

"Jealous?" Vegeta repeated with a snort, grabbing the leather-bound checkbook before reaching for his wallet within his pocket. He scoffed as he placed money inside the book before placing it down, "What is there to be jealous about?"

"That Goku most likely has scored for the night before you have," Bulma fell into a fit of giggles as she slid out of her booth, Vegeta following shortly after. Her cheeks rose and the corners of her eyes crinkled.

Vegeta was flabbergasted, sputtering profanities in her name as he grit his teeth. "What the hell makes you believe that nonsense?! Kakarot is a buffoon - he probably does not even understand let alone appreciate the gratifications of sex!"

"You so are jealous - and, don't deny it!" she exclaimed, punching his shoulder lightly as they exited the restaurant into the warm, night summer air.

"Did you just punch me?" Vegeta questioned, quirking an inquisitive brow as his cheeks lifted with a smirk.

Bulma paused her movement before slowly turning on her heel to face him, hands on her hips as she leaned toward him. "I did indeed, male."

"Perhaps I should just leave you on the street, and you find another way to scamper to your home."

The blue-haired beauty's brows rose as that before quickly being replaced with a saucy smile. "Actually, about that…" she began in a taunting voice as she turned toward him, wrapping her arms seductively around his neck. "I was not planning on going home."

Vegeta's eyes widened with shock, but nonetheless, a smirk carved deep into his left cheek. "You are playing a dangerous game, Ms. Noall."

"I like games with dangerous men who seek my forgiveness…" her breath cascaded against his ear before she teasingly dragged her lips along his cheek, "I believe this merits you to impress me."

"Vulgar woman…." he rumbled , his arms locking around her waist as he planted his lips against hers. Bulma pulled away, offering him a devilish smile.

"Well, come on," she whispered, pulling at his hands, "let's go before I get impatient..."

* * *

 _ **A/N: Sorry for the late update, guys! I promise to be more punctual next week-still struggling to finish school! This story seems to be on its quick way to the end, though. We're already halfway finished!**_

 _ **I think from next week on, you readers will definitely enjoy the updates! The writing is cleaner, and there is definitely more information to go off of (when I was originally writing this, I took a break from writing after this chapter. When I came back, my writing had improved!). I especially believe you guys will enjoy the sequel, too.**_

 _ **If you have any questions, comments, or concerns, leave it in a review or PM!**_

 _R &R!_

 _Until next time!_


	9. Chapter 9

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z, or GT. I'm just a happy little camper (student) who writes in her free time, and hangs out with her dogs. Additionally, the cover photo is a photo I found from surfing on the internet and belongs to the rightful owner (whoever it may be). Additionally, I do not own the lyrics to the song I gained inspiration from for this chapter!**_

 _ **Can you blame me? It was a sexy picture of Vegeta.**_

 _ **Beta: My lovely best friend!**_

 _ **Posted: 6-5-16**_

 ** _Warnings: Kinda limey, I s'ppose. No lemon, though._**

* * *

 _Crazy In Love, Sofia Karlberg (cover)._

 _Got me looking so crazy right now, your love's_  
 _Got me looking so crazy right now,_  
 _Got me looking so crazy right now, your touch_  
 _Got me looking so crazy right now_  
 _Got me hoping you'll page me right now, your kiss_  
 _Got me hoping you'll save me right now_  
 _Looking so crazy in love's,_  
 _Got me looking, got me looking so crazy in love..._

* * *

Rays of sunshine peered past the cracks of the white curtains, the light descending upon two sleeping forms. The curtains fluttered in the morning breeze, and car horns blared in the distance. A single white sheet laid strewn across them as ceiling fan whirred, spinning in circles.

Two backs faced one another, both sleeping comfortably against the plush mattress. However, once the rays of light landed above Vegeta's face, his face wrinkled with annoyance.

Blinking rapidly to remove the sleep from his tear ducts, Vegeta brought a hand to his face and rubbed his tired eyes. He flipped over before propping himself on one elbow, glancing at the sleeping woman beside him.

Bulma's silky locks shone in the morning's rays, complementing the gentle way her chest rose and fell during her slumber.

 _Tch, of course,_ Vegeta mused, snorting softly as he watched her. _She is a heavy sleeper._

Unwittingly, Vegeta had jinxed his own thoughts, and the woman turned onto her opposite side. She squinted in displeasure against the amber light peering into the room, her nose wrinkling with frustration as she shoved her face into a pillow with a groan.

She sighed, quickly covering it with a petite hand as she yawned loudly. "Really?" she inquired, lifting her head to meet his gaze with a questioning brow. "You were watching me while I slept? How cliche of you, Mr. Ouji."

Vegeta scoffed, a faint blush staining the apple's of his cheeks. "Woman, I was not watching you sleep - you are hideous."

"Oh?" She quirked a brow as she scooted toward him, placing her naked flesh against his. "Obviously, I'm not that ugly since I'm in your bed." She joked, poking his left pectoral.

"Hn," he began to chuckle, his hot breath cascading against her skin and creating trails of gooseflesh, "I recall claiming that you were hideous, not ugly. Ugly is more attractive than hideous."

"You're a real charmer, you know that?" Bulma stated dryly, sticking her tongue out in distaste at his comment. "Surprisingly, I do suppose you are quite unimpressive which is odd, considering your amounts of experience in this field."

A growl bubbled from Vegeta's chest cavity, his nostrils flaring angrily. How dare she insult him! He ground his teeth at Bulma's mocking smile, his eye twitching.

Aw, did I hurt his ego? Bulma thought with a refrained laugh. "You did not impress me," she sighed, dragging a finger down his chest. "What a shame. I guess that I cannot forgive you."

"Unimpressive?" he echoed as he rolled atop the petite female, locking his hands on either side of her head. "I must say that your performance was lacking the skills and prowess I expected." He snorted as she began to giggle at his expense, pressing her hands firmly against his chest. "I will just have to force your forgiveness."

"Really?" she challenged, slithering her arms around his neck. "I would love to see you try…"

Vegeta began to lower himself against his vixen, his blood boiling with anticipation. Pressing his hips firmly against hers, his hands skimmed her shoulders and elicited a shudder from her.

Bulma pressed her breasts against his bare, sweaty chest, her fingers sinking into his hair. She tugged at the roots and dragged her tongue across his teeth, deepening the kiss. She lifted her hips with a whine, biting his lower lip as she silently pleaded for him to mount her once more.

A rumble of approval escaped him as he gripped her hips, the pads of his fingers digging into her porcelain flesh. He pulled away from her lips and lowered his head toward her bosom, his tongue lapping at her areola, earning a hiss of pleasure.

"Beg for it," he whispered huskily, blowing on her nipple watching as it hardened. "Tell me what you want."

Her pebbled teat begged to be tugged, bitten; and he went in for the kill once more. She mewled loudly, stars bursting behind her closed lids. Vegeta's phone began vibrating atop his wooden nightstand, accompanying her breathless pants. She clutched desperately at his shoulder blades, her nails biting into his flesh.

"Vegeta," she moaned as he moved, tending to her other breast. "Please."

Releasing her left nipple with a slight pop, he released a chuff as he chose to ignore the phone. "What is it that you crave, Cyan?"

Bulma gave a frustrated cry while he began sucking the juncture of her neck and shoulder, and he ground his hips against hers.

He snickered as she wrapped her slick legs around his waist, tugging him into her. His teeth grazed her skin, nipping it teasingly as he murmured, "Plead for it, vulgar girl."

She whimpered helplessly as she met his heated gaze, her flushed chest rising and falling rapidly. Growling, she slammed her lips against his, their teeth clattering as she shoved her tongue into his mouth. She hummed appreciatively as a hand gripped her rear, squeezing it roughly.

Pulling away, she heatedly spat, "Goddamned masochist, just fuck me already."

Chuckling darkly, Vegeta captured her lips as he pressed down against her sweaty body. His phone began chiming expectantly once more, and he groaned into her mouth she pulled away.

Bulma pushed at his chest as he attempted to drag her into another kiss. She shook her head, giving him a knowing look. "Answer it. It is probably important."

Vegeta released a snort before swiping his cellphone off of his nightstand, pressing the cool metal against his ear. "What is it?" he snapped as he rested his free elbow beside Bulma's head. She watched him expectantly as he stared at his sleek headboard.

"Hn. Brat," a thick, raspy voice greeted on the other end of the phone, "you are not in your office."

"Apologies," he sneered, his grip tightening around the device in his palm. "I was not informed that being a president required me to be at work twenty-four seven. What the hell do you want?"

"Besides coming to visit with you? Not too much. I did however run into Tarble and put him in his rightful place. The fool has once again screwed up important paperwork."

A shiver threatened to roll down Vegeta's spine as he visibly sneered. What had he done to Tarble? Phone calls from his sire were never a good sign, especially if he mentioned Tarble. When he showed up to work, he would not be surprised if he found his brother beaten to a bloody pulp. Tarble was, after all, his father's favorite toy to break. Through the grinding of his teeth at the thought, Vegeta managed to spit, "Get on with it, old man."

"I came for a visit to ensure that you have a date to accompany you for tonight's Summer Gala," his father's voice responded coolly. "I do not need you to look sloppy and appear a complete bachelor in front of the other businessmen. That will just show them that you have no intentions of having an heir, and they could overtake my company."

Vegeta growled fiercely into the transmitter. "Whatever. I will see you tonight." Within a millisecond, Vegeta ended the call before furiously throwing the phone to the floor with pent up rage.

"Hey, hey," Bulma whispered gently, frowning at his sudden mood swing. The thought of sex had long since fled her mind as she reached a hand to rest against his cheek in concern. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he snapped in response, pushing himself away from the woman below him. He rolled onto his backside beside Bulma, glaring at the ceiling.

Bulma's lips tugged downward at Vegeta's distant behaviour. With another stroke of determination, she scooted toward him before moving atop him, resting her head on his chest. She peered innocently at him through her lashes as she folded her hands beneath her chin with a cheeky smile. "Don't be so secretive. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Vegeta barked with a touch of more force, drawing his attention from the ceiling to her face. He shot her a glare as he scowled. Could she never leave him alone? "You babble too much."

Bulma frowned, huffing, "Well sorry, I'm just trying to be, you know, considerate. What's your problem, buddy?"

Vegeta grunted. "I need you to attend the Summer Gala our company hosts annually. It is to celebrate the movement of business from winter to summer, essentially."

Her stomach swelled at the hidden invitation, and she perked at the offer. She had not been to a gala in ages! Oh, the dresses that she could choose from! Giddily, she asked, "Are you asking me to accompany you to an event, Mr. Ouji?"

The flame-haired man released a snort, sarcastically replying, "What do you suppose, woman?"

Bulma's facial features grew brighter as she grinned, her nose wrinkling with excitement. "Of course I'll go!" she chirped, not thinking twice about the possibility of being recognized. "When is it?"

"Tonight."

A shriek fled her voicebox as she scrambled off of Vegeta's chest, shooting out of bed. "Tonight?!" she squealed with terror, her eyes wide. "Why didn't you tell me before?! I won't have enough time to get ready!"

Vegeta slapped a hand to his forehead, massaging the ridge between his brows with two fingers, attempting to rid his oncoming migraine. "It slipped my mind. Why the hell would you need more than an hour to get ready, anyways?"

"I have to find the perfect dress, homeboy!" she exclaimed with a huff, resting her hands against her plump hips. "Don't underestimate me and how I prepare for things. I will look amazing!"

The small scientist began scrambling around the room, picking up the fragments of her clothing. She began to quickly shove herself into each item of clothing, hopping around on one leg as she did so. Once she finished moments later, she saluted her date a farewell. "I'll see you later, bye!"

Vegeta opened his mouth to remark that she had just gotten ready under two minutes, and that she did not need several hours to get ready. However, before he could do so, the woman had already clumsily fled the room and was making her way out of his penthouse.

Sighing, his head connected with his pillow as he stared at the ceiling once more, realization finally dawning upon him.

What the hell had he just done?

* * *

"I cannot believe that you set me up like that!"

"Oh, hush, Chi-Chi!" Bulma scoffed, shaking her head at her friend's whining. She glared at the reflection of the raven-haired woman who was straightening her hair. "You know you enjoyed it!"

"Watch your tone, sister," Chi-Chi warned, waving the hot iron in the air with a motherly look of disapproval. "I'm the one with the power here." She chuckled before grabbing another bunch of blue locks. "But seriously, B, that was uncalled for!"

"You're the one who agreed to a blind date!"

"Yeah," Chi-Chi exclaimed in reply, her cheeks flooding with a bright fuschia, "but not with Goku!"

"Ugh," Bulma puffed her cheeks in distaste with her friend's fuss. "In all honesty Chi, I just want you happy. Tell me that date did not make you happy, and I won't set up another."

Chi-Chi remained quiet as she gently rested the last bundle of straightened blue hair against Bulma's back. She sighed as she leaned over the beauty's shoulder, swiping a wide-tooth comb from the cream colored vanity.

Humming quietly to herself, Chi-Chi sectioned off the crown of Bulma's head. She created a bump effect with Bulma's hair, using her bangs as a mound atop her head, locking them with two bobby pins.

Smiling to herself, Chi-Chi pulled away from her friend with a grin. "Alright," she begrudgingly admitted, "I did enjoy myself."

"See!" Bulma exclaimed, shooting up from her stool with a victorious grin. "I knew you two would work out!"

"It was awkward, really, really awkward at first!"

The Capsule Corp. heiress rolled her eyes with an unattractive snort. "Duh," she drawled, pausing in front of her crammed closet. "It's Goku. He is the definition of awkward."

"Yeah, I guess," Chi-Chi shrugged, her cheeks stretching into a smile. "But, don't worry about making plans. We already have set up another time to meet."

Upon hearing the exciting news, Bulma tripped over own feet, barrelling into her closet full of clothes. "What?!" she shouted, pushing away several hangers of clothes that fell atop her. "No way! Who asked who?!"

Chi-Chi crossed her arms over her chest smugly. "He did, and be careful with your hair!"

Bulma giggled into her hand before crawling out of her closet and standing once more. "Alright, alright, sheesh! It still looks good, right?" the heiress asked nervously, dragging her fingers through her silky locks.

"Yes, yes," Chi-Chi chided, unwrapping a plastic-covered gown laying atop Bulma's bed. "You're going to look amazing!"

Holding out a hangar toward Bulma, Chi-Chi inspected the pale, minty green dress within her clutches. The strapless, chiffon dress was chic and silky with a layered skirt. The bodice was sleek, having pinned streaks leading to the center of where Bulma's bosom would be.

The heiress graciously took the gown from Chi-Chi's hands, a bright smile on her facial features as she hugged the dress to her body. Humming to herself, Bulma began to sway slightly as she glanced at her reflection in the mirror.

"Gee," Chi-Chi whispered, shaking her head with disapproval. "You must really like him."

Bulma stuck her nose in the air, attempting to hide the blush staining her porcelain cheeks. "And what if I do?" She sniffed, removing the sash binding the pink robe around her body. The plush cloth fell to the floor, revealing Bulma only in lacy white underwear with a strapless bra to match.

"I think it's a dangerous game to be playing."

The scientist pressed her lips together, not having any intention to respond to Chi-Chi's comment. Of course, her friend was correct, as always. However, in all honesty, Bulma was enjoying herself, and wanted to continue doing so without being famous for once.

Shimmying herself into the dress, she turned her back toward Chi-Chi expectantly, waiting for her to pull the zipper up.

Releasing a exasperated sigh that earned a teasing poke from Bulma, Chi-Chi's fingers tugged the small piece of metal, closing the dress together.

"Alright," Bulma exhaled, turning toward her companion with a smile. "Time for some makeup. Maybe we'll even have some time to spare," she added with a wink, and Chi-Chi erupted into a fit of giggles.

"Right, and the next thing you know, he'll be here while you're in the middle of doing your eyeliner."

Bulma could not help but to chuckle in agreement as she sat in front of her vanity. "Knowing him, he'll show up an hour early."

* * *

And show an hour early he did.

Bulma stared out the passenger window, shuddering under the tense electricity crackling within the car. She could practically feel Vegeta's anger rolling off of him in waves, crashing against her and making her squirm uncomfortably.

"Hey," she gently prodded as she glanced at him, poking at Vegeta's bicep. The jacket and slacks he wore were a coffee-colored, matching the brown wing-tipped Cole Haans confining his feet. A white shirt poked from beneath his sleek coat, a midnight tie wrapped around his neck. "We're matching."

"Hn."

Vegeta's Rolex watch glimmered atop his wrist in the dim lighting of his sleek Jaguar. He propped his left arm against his window, resting his head upon his knuckles with a bored expression.

He took a left, turning the steering wheel tightly before releasing it gently. The leather encasing the wheel slid against his calloused skin with a small ' _woosh'_ before the wheel returned to his vice-like grip.

Bulma frowned as she eyed the man suspiciously. Vegeta was quiet - that was normal - but he was unusually tense. _Why?_ she pondered as his shoulders hunched. _Does he not want to take me to the Gala tonight?_

She cleared her throat, watching as he scowled at the small noise. _Gee, is he really that agitated?_ "Vegeta," she whispered, staring at the side of his well shaven face. "What's wrong?"

His immediate response was spoken coolly, "Nothing is wrong."

Bulma scoffed at his demeanor. She would not be able to stand this attitude all night! "Please, spare me, buster. I have worked with you long enough to know that something's up - so, you better tell me."

"Tch," he growled, moving his left hand to the steering wheel to join its twin. "Leave it alone, insolent woman!"

Bulma's stomach did a summersault as her face flushed. "Hey," she snapped angrily, her eyes narrowing. "I can get out of this car, and leave you dateless, you know."

Vegeta pressed his foot to the break as they came to a stop light and the car jolted to an abrupt stop. His head swerved toward the female, his upper lip curling back into a sneer. "By all means then," he snipped, his fingers tightening around the wheel, "get out, now."

Onyx clashed with aqua; each pair of pupils were dilated, ignited with fury and flaming with rage.

Bulma's hand hovered over the handle of her door, glaring at him. Her fingers twitched against the cool metal as she internally debated whether to go through with her threat. If she left, she knew he would be upset and she would most likely lose her job. Though, if she stayed, would he remain being a total jerk? Before she could decide on the final verdict, the stop light had flickered from red to green.

Vegeta returned his gaze toward the road, his sneer still intact.

Air swirled around them with electricity, crackling with zaps of tension. The car was stuffy, and the silent argument the couple was having was unbearable.

The heiress stubbornly crossed her arms over her chest, staring out her window. She glared at the faint reflection of her handsome date, her brows furrowing together in frustration.

The remainder of the ride remained silent, and it felt like hours before the car came to a stop in front of a chic, brick building. Several couples were entering the building, each dressed in elegant fashion.

 _Damnit,_ Bulma frowned, glancing at her attire. _I didn't dress nice enough!_

Opening his door, Vegeta slid out of his seat before tossing his jingling keys toward a valet. "I better not see a single scratch on this," Vegeta barked, scowling at the young male before brushing past him, toward the passenger side of the car. He quickly opened the car door, holding a hand toward his date.

Bulma still wore a frown, yet she accepted his hand, interlacing her fingers with his. Her white heels connected with the smooth pavement below, and she scooted out of her seat before standing.

Wrapping her arms around Vegeta's bicep, she exhaled loudly, avoiding his dark stare. "Let's go."

* * *

The room had the sticky, warm sensation of summer air that followed people as laughter echoed off of the high ceilings.

Tall, cream-colored walls surrounded them with golden trimmings that led to the layered, oval carved ceiling.

A single, large glass chandelier hung from the center of the ceiling, radiating a brilliant light throughout the room. Each shard of crystal glimmered and reflected numerous colors that created streaks of reds and purples along the walls.

Six long rectangular steps led to the wide expanse of the dancefloor. Surrounding the entire floor a few feet above were wooden dining tables, along with red velvet covered chairs tucked beneath each table. Horderves were placed upon silver platters the laid upon long, white table cloths against the walls nearby the dining tables.

Bulma scanned the elegant room with awe, the owner's jaw slacking slightly. For her, she had not seen such a beautiful and chic room in months. Eerily, she almost felt at home by being surrounded with numerous politicians as wells as entrepreneurs.

The hum of cellos and violins vibrated in her ears, making her heart swell with the comforting noise. The rest of the world muted around her as she explored a bout of nostalgia for a moment until Vegeta elbowed her ribs.

"Woman, are you finished daydreaming?" Vegeta muttered under his breath in a snap, side-glancing at his date. "Pay attention."

Blinking rapidly, Bulma shook her head lightly before scowling at their interlocked arms. Why was he being so sour and rude? What had she done besides show affection? He was certainly being a prick!

The bottoms of her white, pointed heels clicked against the floor, her grip tightening around Vegeta's forearm as they began to approach a group of tall, older men.

One noticeably large, tubby man's stare landed on the approaching couple. His thin, greyed mustache lifted with his ruddy cheeks as he lifted his hand in welcome. "Ah, Juniour!" his loud voice boomed across the stretched distance between them, while the other men surrounding the heavy gentleman spoke in hushed whispers. "Come over, quickly!"

Vegeta tugged on Bulma slightly, forcing her to pick up her pace before they abruptly stopped before the man. The heir of Ouji Enterprises nodded his head politely in acknowledgment while mumbling, "Mr. Mayor."

Bulma's eyes popped from their sockets with astonishment as she stared incredulously at the man before her. This was East City's mayor?!

The Capsule Corporation heiress could have sworn she felt the embarrassment radiating off of Vegeta as they witnessed the terrible sight.

Sheesh, Bulma thought, chewing her lower lip to contain her giggles. The sight of his flamingo coloured shirt and baby blue pants was disastrous! If this was my Mayor, I'd be upset, too. At least he's not wearing plaid with checkered!

The joyful old man laughed, the apples of his cheeks glowing brightly. "Oh, young boy, it is so nice of your family to host this event once again!" he cheered, ignoring the ever growing blush on Vegeta's cheeks as the heir clenched his fists. "And, who might this lovely lady attached to you be?"

"Cyan Noall," Bulma greeted before Vegeta, offering the man a half-hearted smile as she held out her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Mayor."

"Ah, but the pleasure is mine, Ms. Noall!" the man said dreamily, taking Bulma's hand and placed a sloppy kiss on the back of it. He failed to notice the beauty's cringe at the sign of affection. "I must admit, Ms. Noall, my men and I have some...important business to discuss with Vegeta about future fundraising for the city. May I steal him away, just for a few moments?"

Bulma raised an inquisitive brow before quickly glancing at Vegeta. She could not help chuckling at his red cheeks that completely betrayed his scowl and bulging vein upon his forehead.

Oh, this would be lovely revenge for his shitty attitude, she thought as she removed her arm from his, smiling brightly toward the Mayor. "Why, of course!" she cooed, pushing Vegeta toward him. "I would not want to keep you waiting." Bulma bit the insides of each cheek to prevent herself from cackling as she added with a wink toward Vegeta, "You know where to find me, honey."

With that, Bulma began to saunter away toward a dining table on the dance floor containing glasses of champagne. She could not help but to release her onslaught of giggles as she heard the Mayor exclaim: _"Oh, if she's calling you honey, she means business!"_

As her laughter began to die down, Bulma stopped before the long table with a grin. Her small fingers reached for the stem of a glass, before bringing the crystal edge of the cup to her lips. Taking a small swig of the golden, bubbly substance, Bulma's tastebuds relished at the carbonated sensation.

Humming as her tastebuds buzzed with satisfaction, she took another sip. _Thank Kami for alcohol,_ Bulma praised inwardly. _I don't know how else I would make it through this night with Vegeta being in such a shitty mood..._

Her thoughts were shattered to pieces as she refocused, her gaze meeting with two, friendly coal-coloured eyes. The person before her pressed their nose to hers. Bulma squealed, jumping a foot backward as she swatted at the man in front of her. "What the hell?!"

"Hiya, Cyan! Oops - be careful!" the unruly haired man exclaimed with a cheesy grin, wrapping an arm around her waist and straightening her body before she fell. "Sorry 'bout that."

Resting a hand upon her heart, she inhaled deeply to slow her her racing heart. "Goku!" she growled, moving away from his grasp with a pout. "You can't do that to me!"

Goku released a nervous chuckle, his hand instinctively grappling for the nape of his neck. "Gee, Cyan, I'm sorry!"

A small laugh bubbled in Bulma's throat. "It's alright," she assured with a weak smile before giving him a stern look, "but don't think I'll let you get away with it again!"

Goku grinned while holding his hands in front of him in defeat. "Alright, alright! I promise not to do it again!"

"Good," Bulma huffed, resting her free hand against her hip with a dignified look. "So, Mr. Classy," she quirked a brow at the man's fancy attire. A beige suit adorned his body with a red tie wrapped around his broad neck. "What brings you around these neck of the woods?"

"Huh? Oh," Goku blinked, glancing down at his attire with a sigh as he pouted. "Raditz said I had to come represent the company and forced me to wear this!"

His sour, unhappy response received a few snickers from Bulma and she slapped a hand to her mouth.

"It's not funny," Goku whined in a clear, defeated tone. He sighed as he scratched the back of his neck, managing half of his typical grin. "But that's not why I came over to say hi."

A single, curious aqua brow rose. "Oh?"

"I wanna say thanks for setting me up on a date with Chi-Chi," he admitted, his cheeks flooding with a rich crimson as he stammered. "I-it was fun. She's a really nice girl, and pretty too!"

Bulma's heart warmed at the confession and she immediately brightened. Her raven-haired friend had done and sacrificed so much for her, and it felt great to finally pay her back. "Aww," the heiress cooed, slapping Goku's chest lightly, "she likes you, too, Son-kun."

"Son-kun?" he echoed, his nose wrinkling at the name. "I guess that nickname is alright. But, I asked her on another date, do ya think she wants to go? Or does she not like me like that? O-o—"

"Goku," Bulma interjected, waving her hand to silence him. "She adores you — you are fine! She is already excited for your next date."

"Really?!" he exclaimed as he began to bounce on the balls of his feet. "That's great, I have so many ideas! Here's what I had in mind…"

As Goku began to rattle off his ideas for numerous dates, Bulma slowly began to block out his incessant chatter. _Gee_ , she thought with a chuckle, shaking her head. _If only Vegeta would plan things like this!_ She stared at the tall, unruly-haired man, smiling every once in awhile so that she seemed interested. She was elated that she managed to find Chi-Chi a partner that would love her to pieces.

Bulma envisioned the two together and sighed dreamily. She successfully brought her friends together - with Vegeta's help, of course! Giggling softly at the thought of her lofty side-kick, her eyes drifted across the dance floor, landing on Vegeta.

She smiled brightly, her heart swelling behind her ribcage. Oh, just the mere sight of him made her want to melt into a puddle! She released choked on her drink when he turned toward her direction, her throat tightening.

 _Oh, god._

Her breathing quickened as her heart fell to the pits of her stomach.

It was not Vegeta at all - it was his father.

* * *

A flicker of sea-green flashed in his peripherals, piquing his interest. Turning slightly, the middle-aged man peered over the rim of his champagne glass, only to inevitably frown at the sight he was met with.

The girl with striking, vibrant hair beside his son's bodyguard was vaguely familiar...

Senior stroked the thick locks of his goatee with his free hand, his eyes narrowing at the beauty located across the room. Who is that woman? he thought with a frown, tapping his foot impatiently as his focus drifted toward Goku. I have seen her before.

His gaze lazily drifted back toward her figure before focusing intensely once more. He could practically sense the crackling tension radiating from her porcelain skin as avoided his imploring stare. Was this his son's new secretary?

When her gaze met his, he was surprised to receive a glare and he tilted his head with curiosity. The cogs within his mind spun wildly as he tried to place a name to her face. After a few moments, he did.

He choked slightly on the alcohol sliding down his throat before chuckling darkly, sneering.

Bulma Brief.

The graying Vegeta lifted his chin in acknowledgment as an ominous smirk stretched his cheeks; he raised his glass toward the petite female.

The foolish girl…

Her thin fingers began to tremble slightly and the golden liquid in her glass began to slosh. A thick, dry lump lodged itself within her windpipe.

They did nothing but stare at one another, and Bulma could feel her pulse pounding within her ears, muting all the other sounds within the room. She inhaled sharply, quietly gasping for air in ragged intervals before resting a hand above her heart, attempting to calm herself.

She watched as he scrutinized her, recognition lighting his facial features. Oh God, she thought with horror, he knows who I am.

Bulma shot him a tight-lipped smile as he lifted his glass toward her, silently seething. She redirected her attention toward Goku, shuddering. This was bad, very bad. What would he do? Publicly announce who she was in front of everyone? He would not, would he?

The giant oaf was continuing on with his spiel, not batting a lash at Bulma's unusual behaviour, "...and, I really wanna spar with her. She said that she used to do martial arts as a kid - the things you learn! I-...huh." Waving a hand in front of her face, his brows knitted together in concern. "Heya, Bluuuuue?"

"Hn?" Bulma grunted, deep in thought. She could leave through the front entrance, or, she could try escaping through the kitchens? She shook her head and offered Goku a disinterested response. "Oh, yeah. Chi's been doing that for awhile now. She definitely has a rigorous exercise routine."

"Yeah-huh, she sure is something special!" He scratched the side of his head as his watch began to beep profusely. "Sorry, B! Gotta go man the front doors. I'll catch ya later!"

Bulma offered him a weak smile and she waved her free fingers toward he galumphed from sight. She sighed with relief before moving forward, her feet carrying her away from the table of beverages. Wherever Senior was, she needed to be one-hundred feet away at all times.

Inwardly praying to the man known as Kami, she craned her neck in the direction of the location of Senior. She frowned when she did not see him and she unwittingly tripped, barreling into the arms of her enemy.

"Good evening, Miss Brief."

A gasp rattled her as her fingers clumsily released the stem of her glass, watching as it shattered against the floor. The noise was covered by the alluring music from plucked strings, and she stepped away from Senior.

She held her head high as she folded her arms beneath her bust, standing tall. Shit, she thought, attempting to radiate anything except timidness. Could this night get any worse? She hissed through gritted teeth, "I do not know what you are talking about, Mr. Ouji."

The streaks of gray in his hair glowed in the room's light as he snorted. "Don't be coy with me, girl. I am no fool."

Bulma's heels crunched the broken glass as she snapped, "What do you want?"

Grabbing her upper arm with a vice-like grip, Senior tugged Bulma toward the door leading to the balcony. "You are roaming in dangerous territory," he mused, his voice cold as pulled her outside. "Why are you here, rival? Better yet: why are you here with my son?"

The older and equally regal version of Vegeta began to circle her, his shoes clicking against the wooden terrace. His deep, lethal stare drilled a hole through trembling exterior as he folded his hands behind the small of his back.

She held in a bated breath, her azure gaze following his every move Her plump, lower lip stuck out innocently as she grit her teeth. "What am I?" she snapped furiously at the man's calm, intimidating demeanor. "A piece of fresh meat?"

Senior merely chuckled. "I believe you were the one to walk into the slaughterhouse."

Bulma gaped with shock, her face twisting into a look of fury. The world swirled around her as she shook with rage. How dare he insult her?! How dare he confront her during an event with hundreds of people?! The man had some nerve! he wrinkled her nose in distaste toward the man as he spoke once more.

"Sabotaging my son, are you, Bulma?"

"No, are you?" she quipped with a scoff. "Last I've heard, you were the one trying to tear him apart in front of the board."

"You know nothing, you stupid bi…"

"What the hell are you doing, old man?"

The younger of the Vegetas walked toward them with a deep scowl, his left hand shoved within his lenin pocket. He stopped beside Bulma, wrapping his right arm around her waist.

"Feh," Senior scoffed, rolling his eyes as he abruptly stopped his pacing, standing before the heirs. He knew it was not wise to tell his son of the treachery he was committing by claiming the woman. Oh no, he would not tell him - yet. When the time comes, he thought, amused, she will be a useful pawn in the downfall of her own company. "Merely inspecting your new toy-oh, excuse me, secretary."

Vegeta glowered, baring his pearly whites. "Watch it, father."

"No, brat, you watch it." The streaks of gray in Senior's hair glinted in the chandelier's warm light as he began to saunter away. "This toy may be the one to break you."

A growl escaped Vegeta's throat as his gaze followed his father's retreating form, before glancing at Bulma. "Woman, what the hell did he want?"

Bulma shook her head. "Nothing, it was just as he said," she whispered with a slight crack in her voice. A cool, summer breeze swept past them as she shrugged, "he was inspecting me."

Vegeta's right brow twitched, but his face gave away nothing else as he scrutinized her.

The heiress of Capsule Corporation chewed the inside of her cheek nervously under his intense gaze. In hopes of dragging herself out of this mess, she rested a hand upon his chest, offering him a weak smile. "Vegeta," she sighed, glancing at him through her thick lashes, "I want to go dance, please."

He chuckled, pulling her closer to him as he growled in her ear, "I don't dance, Cyan."

A tremor attacked each of Bulma's vertebrae as her belly swelled with a warm, tingling sensation. His voice was husky, deep; and her name sounded delicious rolling off of his tongue. "Please," she whispered airly as she strummed her fingers against his muscular chest. She pulled him through the curtains, and back into the ballroom. "I've seen you dance."

Vegeta released a dark chuckle. "You have seen more than that, woman."

"Mm," she agreed with a hum. "Maybe this dance will not be interrupted. They always do say there's something about slow dancing…"

The flame-haired man's eyes glossed over with an unquenchable lust as he tugged the curve of Bulma's rounded hip. He cupped her soft, left hand within his larger one and he rested his right hand above the side of her pelvis.

Bulma sucked in a breath between the gaps of her teeth as her gaze flitted around the room of people. Couples swarmed around them as each of them began to twirl and dance to the music. Blinking, she refocused her gaze to the man holding her, and she slithered her free hand around the nape of his neck. Her fingers gently grazed his hairline, and he hummed with satisfaction.

"Impress me, woman," he purred, the warmth of his breath hitting against her earlobe, "and then you will be rewarded."

Bulma shivered at the promise, and gooseflesh scattered across her flesh. She felt his fingertips press into the fleshy area of the small of her back, and her eyelids drooped slightly. She rested her cheek against his heart as her feet moved to each, thundering beat.

Vegeta craned his neck so that his mouth was beside hers, his hot breath cascading across her cheek. The tip of his nose brushed hers as he gently squeezing her hand. He placed a small kiss against her lush lips, and teasingly pressed his hips against hers.

Bulma stifled a moan at the feel of his bulging appendage, heat swelling within the pits of her belly. Her mind fogged over with desire, and she hummed against his lips. She felt him chuckle against her before spinning her toward the other dancers. A gasp escaped her as she grazed a woman twirling beside her, and within seconds, she was tugged back into the safety of Vegeta's chest.

The heiress's cheeks flushed crimson as wisps of her blue hair brushed against her face. Peering at the man who slightly towered over her, her heart launched within her throat as she admired the happiness within his crinkled eyes.

The soft flow of music floated through the warm, stuffy air, electricity swirling around them.

His amused features illuminated some type of harshness within him, giving him the appearance of someone who was not to be underestimated. The corners of his lips were curved upward, and his eyebrows lowered in concentration as they waltzed.

With the rising heat between them and the speed of the music picking up, Bulma's heart rate steadily rose along with them. Her breathing was ragged, and she was almost panting. The back of her throat was dry as she was spun out once again, before returning to her partner.

They moved in sync, their bodies never missing a sway or beat to the saxophones and trumpets hummed gently.

Vegeta remained alert as he scanned the floor, being sure not to run into the traffic of other dancers and the crowd. He lead her gracefully, taking care to dance slow enough so that she could interpret his next moves.

Bulma's heart swelled at the man's patience, and for once, she felt safe and secure around the man she feared for years.

Numerous people were staring at them in awe, including the other people on the dance floor. The dancing men and women stilled around them, staring incredulously at the couple that stole the hearts and eyes of the ball room.

"Vegeta," she whispered against his jaw, shivering at the heat radiating off of his skin. "People are staring…"

A soft chuckle rumbled against his ribcage. " _Good_ ," he mused, allowing for her to do a small spin before returning to their normal form, "give them a show."

Within a split moment, the two heirs had become one with the song. If one went right, so did the other. If the other sped up, the other followed.

Bulma decided in that moment to release her fears of being suspected as the Capsule Corporation heiress, and just have fun. The tension in her muscles lifted as a sense of freedom washed over her. For now, she was no longer Bulma Brief; she was Cyan Noall. A bubble of laughter escaped her at the thought while her face rose into a grin.

The apples of Vegeta's cheeks stretched into a small smile, and amusement flickered in his eyes. Bulma's stomach churned happily at the sight, and she beamed knowing that she was the cause of his good mood.

Slowing down to the blur of the music and atmosphere around them, the song slowly began to die out. As it did, their motions grew slower, and he spun her out toward the crowd for one final time.

After being brought back toward his chest, she softly giggled as they swayed slowly to the last beat and strum of each instrument. Finally, after a few moments, they had slowed, and the audience broke out into a thunder of applause to the dancers upon the floor.

Beads of water glided down their backs, the heat closing in upon them as the came to a full stop. Bulma felt Vegeta's breath hit her neck in small pants, and she shivered under the warmth. Her forehead was slick with a sheen of sweat as she placed a small kiss against his lower jaw.

Bulma frowned as Vegeta pulled away from her, her body craving the touch of his skin. Her boss offered her a sly grin, and she quirked a single brow.

"I must continue to commemorate with a few more men and women for the night," Vegeta stated as he grabbed her hand and tugged her off of the dance floor. He tilted his head to the side and brushed his lips against her left cheek. "Do not fret, little minx. You will be rewarded in all due time."

Releasing a shaky gasp as he pulled away, Bulma blinked in a daze as he wrapped a strong forearm around her waist.

As they began walking toward another group of businesswomen and men alike, she could not help but stare at the man beside her, and feel a strange sensation within her heart.

* * *

 _ **Yay! I was finally able to publish one of my favorite chapters! I definitely think this begins to show my hard work as a "writer". Hope you guys enjoyed this-I'll be posting a B/V one-shot in a few days, so be on the look out! It's called "Together Through Change". :)**_

 _ **What did you guys think about this chapter? Let me know in a PM or review!**_

 _Until next time!_

 _DoV xx_


	10. Chapter 10

**_Hello, readers! I'm SOOOO sorry that I've been gone FOREVER! I had computer issues-still do-and managed to borrow a computer for a few hours to be able to post this puppy.  
_**

 ** _I hope that you guys enjoy it, and keep in mind that there's important information at the end of this chapter!_**

 ** _Disclaimer: Hahahaha. If I owned any of this sh*t would I be writing FF?...Maybe._**

* * *

"C'mon. Say it."

Raditz leaned back in a heavy iron chair with his arm slung its side and his other hand upon the table, drumming his fingers. He shot the man sitting across from him a wicked grin. "Say it, Ouji," he goaded, dark amusement radiating from his being. "I was fucking right."

A vein bulged upon Vegeta's right temple as he released a chuff. His fingers curled around his hot mug, the reggae coffee shop music only serving to sour his mood even more. His upper lip curled over his gums as he spat, "Wipe that shit-eating grin off your face, you moron."

The smile upon Raditz's face did not budge as he leaned forward on the table, slamming his palms upon the laminate. "Not until you say that I was right!"

"Tch," Vegeta crossed his arms over his chest as he growled, "I suppose that you will prematurely age, then."

Raditz plopped back into his seat, snorting. "Alright, alright," he held his hands in defeat before wrapping them around his drink, "fine. I'll give you this one. But, at least you internally know who is right."

Vegeta's eyes narrowed, his sneer pulling back impossibly far. "Your presumptions are incorrect, Raditz."

"Like hell they are!" he shot haughtily in retort, drawing attention from other tables. With a low, warning growl from his boss, Raditz cringed slightly before speaking in a lower decibel, "You are smitten. Might I even dare say that you like Cyan?"

Vegeta's fingers tightened around his ceramic cup, threatening to shatter it within his hold. Was the incompetent fool not listening? His left brow twitched with annoyance as he hissed, "I do not like the stupid woman!"

Raditz snickered quietly. "Riiiight," he drawled, waving a hand in dismissal. "Whatever you say, boss."

"Feh," Vegeta grunted, a frown carving into his cheek. The heir pointed a finger toward the break room's entrance, "You are dismissed."

"Pffft, really?" Raditz spluttered. "Is that how you wanna end the 'I'm so right and you're so wrong' game?"

Vegeta's jaw muscles flexed in irritation, and he leaned over the table, his face centimeters away from Raditz's. "Leave," he snapped with a huff of annoyance, glaring at the eldest of the Son brothers.

"Gee, yeah, yeah, alright," Raditz sighed, standing up in defeat. However, before he turned away, he offered Vegeta a wink.

The urge to splash his hot, murky coffee upon the buffoon's white shirt was immense, but Vegeta luckily contained himself. Instead, he substituted packs of sugar with the coffee and chucked them at Raditz, who responded in kind with boisterous laughter.

"Later, boss man!"

* * *

"Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

"I haf twenfy minutes to sfare," Bulma muffled through a mouthful of scone as she plopped down into a plush booth. She covered her mouth politely with a small hand before swallowing her food. "I have twenty minutes to spare," she repeated with a chuckle. "Vegeta changed my hours. I start later in the morning now."

Chi-Chi rolled her eyes. "And you're absolutely positive that you're not smitten with your rival?"

Bulma had taken another chunk from her scone, and she paused mid-chew. She glanced at the window, watching citizens of East City bustle past, rushing to work. Reluctantly, she swallowed her pastry as she stammered, "Chi-Chi, there's nothing going on."

"Oh?" the Ox princess scoffed. "You're lying."

"Okay," Bulma sighed, bringing her cup away from her face, "We've had sex."

"And?"

The beauty growled as she huffed, "Fine. More than once," she admitted, crossing her arms beneath her bosom stubbornly. "But…" Bulma chewed her lower lip as she leaned back into the booth with another deep exhale. "It's nothing more than that. It can't be more than that."

"Oh, B," Chi-Chi offered her friend a look of sympathy. She lifted her right and and reached for Bulma's, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You don't know that."

But I do, Bulma thought gloomily, a sharp pang striking her heart. Why was she feeling upset over something she knew would not work from the start? I just wanted to feel something for once...someone to like me for me, and not my fame. I think Vegeta feels the same, but...

Bulma shook her head, replacing her sorrowful expression with a small smile. "Enough about me, how are you and Goku?"

Chi-Chi's squealed as an impossibly large grin spread ear to ear across her face. Her slim nose wrinkled with joy and the corner of her eyes crinkled as she sighed dreamily, "Oh, Bulma, he is so amazing!" she gushed, drawing her hand away from Bulma's and resting her cheek upon the heel of her palm. "He's so sweet and clueless, you just can't help but to love him."

Bulma giggled, "Yeah...he definitely has a lot of naiveté," she agreed, nodding her head before blinking. Her heart stopped momentarily as her mind went over her friend's words. Did she just say love? "Wait...Chi-Chi!" she gaped, her eyes widening as her mouth fell open. "Did you just say that you love him?!"

"Y-yeah, I guess," Chi-Chi stuttered, a bright pink dusting her cheekbones as she stared at the table. Her face grew hot with embarrassment as she released a girlish chortle, "I guess I did."

"Aw," Bulma cooed, grinning widely, "I knew it was right to set you two up! I just kne…"

"Hey, B," Chi-Chi interjected, meeting Bulma's gaze. "I have a question…"

"Shoot."

"I…" Chi-Chi sighed as the fingers of her right hand tightened around her mug of creamy coffee. What could she say? She knew what she was about to ask would upset Bulma, and that she would not allow for her to tell Goku. But...she had to try, right? It was for the sake of her and Goku's relationship. "Can I tell Goku about your true identity?"

The undercover heiress choked on the swig of coffee that traveled down her throat. Patting her chest, she narrowed her eyes toward her friend as she growled, "No."

"Ple-"

"I said no!" Bulma snapped, her voice raising an octave as she abruptly stood from her seat. She slammed her hand down upon the wooden table, her nostrils flaring. "Do you realize the danger that you could put me in?!"

Chi-Chi's lower lip trembled as her brows knitted together with anger. Did Bulma seriously think that her motive was to put her in danger?! _I would never want to tell Goku if I didn't think he couldn't keep a secret..._

A hot, blazing fury seared through her veins as she cried, "Do you really think that I would aim to place my best friend in danger? He wouldn't tell anyone!"

"Are you kidding me, Chi-Chi?!" she shrieked, gritting her teeth angrily, "He works for the one person I don't need to know my identity! Besides, you have known him for, what, two weeks, maybe?"

Hot, salty water brimmed Chi-Chi's lower lids, causing her eyes to burn as she croaked, "That's not fair, Bulma!

"No, you know what's not fair?" Bulma released a bitter chuckle, leaning toward the raven-haired woman, "The fact that someone's attacking my company, and I had to go undercover because their motives were to attack me. You don't get a choice in this Chi-Chi, and you if you are a friend of mine, you will not tell him."

Pushing away from the table and leaving both her scone and paper cup, Bulma's heel clacked against the wooden floors of the coffee shop as she stormed out of the building.

Chi-Chi sniffled, shutting her eyes together tightly. She pressed her lips together as she reopened her eyes, releasing another loud sniff. Bringing her right hand to her left, she interlaced her fingers and wrung them together, enjoying the cool feeling of metal against her fingers.

 _I want to tell him, because he deserves to know,_ she thought sadly, turning her head away from the onlookers. _But, Bulma's my best friend. Oh god, what do I do...Did I just lose her?  
_

* * *

"Aw, Chi," Goku whispered into Chi-Chi's raven-coloured hair. He rubbed a soothing hand up and down a small woman's back. "I'm sure she can't be that upset."

"B-but she is," Chi-Chi hiccupped as she shook violently within Goku's arms, shaking her head. "And, I can't tell you what I wanted."

Goku blinked, pulling Chi-Chi away from his chest slightly as he looked down at her, his eyebrows knitting together. His gaze lost his friendly flicker, filling with an uncharacteristic glimmer of seriousness. "Chi-Chi," he sighed, running a hand through her silky hair, "if it's about Cyan, then it doesn't matter. All that matters to me is you, and if you're keepin' a friend's secret, that's your business, not mine."

Chi-Chi sniffled loudly, bringing a hand toward her nose and wiping at it furiously with a whisper, "Really?"

"Really, really," he replied with the utmost honesty before offering her a grin, chirping, "'sides, I know that you'll always tell me everything."

She dragged the heel of her palms against the dried stream of tears, emitting another sniffle. "She thinks we're moving too fast."

Goku tilted his head to the side, confused, "Did ya tell her?"

The Ox princess shook her head in denial as she gave Goku a weak smile, "No."

He could not help but grin. "Then she'll think we're really crazy!" he exclaimed as he reached for her left hand, squeezing it soothingly.

"Do you think she's right?"

"Huh?" Goku questioned, pouting as he did so. "Of course not Chi-Chi. You're all that I want, and all that I need. I know in my heart that you're the only one for me!"

"Oh, Goku," she chuckled, shaking her head as she stared at his sincere eyes. He was certainly like a child and hopelessly adorable and trusting, but she would not have it any other way. "I love you."

"Yuh-huh," he continued, pulling Chi-Chi toward his chest once more. She rested her head within the crook of his neck as he continued, "I'm gonna take good care of you, and I'm going to make you the happiest person alive."

He rocked them back and forth, slowly and comfortingly. Chi-Chi squeezed his calloused hand back with a small smile as his thumb stroked the metal loop around her ring finger. "I know you will, Goku," she whispered, pecking his cheek with a gentle kiss as she glanced at the single diamond atop her finger, "I know you will…"

* * *

Ten o'clock.

A ball-point pen clattered atop a desk as the owner of the writing utensil leaned back within his rolly chair. Vegeta sighed, rubbing the exhaustion from his face. He had been in a sour mood all day, no thanks to Raditz.

He had unleashed his wrath upon dozens of workers, and fired numerous people.

 _I do not fancy that blasted woman_ , Vegeta thought with a growl, squinting as he glanced through the glass separating their offices. The blue-haired beauty was still plucking away with work, her computer screen lit the room in a faint glow.

Even she had appeared to be annoyed for the entire day, and not just because of the enormous amount of work she had to complete. No - before she stepped foot into her office, she grumpily bypassed him, and they only exchanged a few words the entire day.

Her behaviour simply irked him. She did not even bitch about the amount of work she received. There were no flirtatious winks, comments, or hidden innuendos laced within her words. Instead, she was set on finishing her work wordlessly, and that included ignoring him.

Unfortunately for him, that served to aggravate him more.

With a huff of annoyance, Vegeta pushed away from his desk before stalking over toward her office, stepping inside. The heels of his shoes padded lightly against the floor before he stopped abruptly before her desk, his arms crossed over his chest.

Bulma did not raise her gaze to meet his, instead, she continued to scroll through the internet. She nibbled on the tip of her pen, tapping her foot against the floor. "Yes?" she questioned, the brilliant light of the computer screen illuminating her soft facial features.

"Hn, you are here unusually late, Woman."

"And you're being unusually snoopy," she shot back with a huff, glancing at him for a split second. "What gives?"

Vegeta snorted. "I'm hungry. Accompany me."

Bulma paused the tapping of her foot for a brief moment as she dragged her gaze toward his. Resuming her foot tapping, she removed the end of the pen from her mouth before pursing her lips. "Only if I get to choose the place, O wise one!"

"Fine," he bit out, pivoting on his heel, "but it better not be fucking disgusting."

Bulma squealed in delight as she shot up from her seat, zooming toward Vegeta. She grabbed one of his hands with both of hers, tugging him toward the exit. "Come oooon, I haven't been to this place in ages!"

She continued tugging on his hand, and out of pure amusement, Vegeta refused to budge. A smirk curled onto his lips at her futile attempts to get him to move as she huffed and puffed.

"Vegetaaa-AH!" she shrieked as he retracted his hand back toward him, laughing as her rear smacked against the floor.

The heir of Ouji Enterprises threw his head back and released a guffaw, and the corner of his eyes crinkled. He cocked his head to the side as his shoulders rolled with laughter.

Bulma's heart would have swooned at the sight of a single dimple piercing his left cheek if it had not been for the fact he was laughing at her. "You ass!" she huffed as she stood from the ground, stomping toward him. She slapped his chest as she blew a raspberry. "You're such a jerk!"

He snickered under his breath, slapping her rear and earning a yelp. "You're too amusing and pathetic for your own good, Woman." He nodded in the direction of the door, "Let's go."

The head-strong female held her head high as she released an indignant _'hmph!'_. "Fine, but we are taking my car!"

* * *

"Woman, are you positive that this contraption is even legal to drive?"

"Of course it is!" she snapped, shifting the gear as she kept her focus on the road. "She's perfectly fine!"

A tiny, ancient Mini-Cooper trudged down the road, fumes floating out of the exhaust pipe. The weathered, yellow car huffed and puffed as its creaky axis' took a sharp left in downtown East City. The brakes squealed as Bulma came to an non-so gentle stop at a red light.

She turned her head toward Vegeta, and giggled of at his blanched face. The mere sight of his hand clutching the safety bar making his knuckles white, or the way she imagined his heart lurching from his chest was enough to put her into a laughing fit.

"What's so damned funny?"

"Nothing," she mused, pursing her lips as she prevented herself from snickering, "just think of this as payback."

The light turned a bright green, and the small convertible lurched forward with a jolt, causing Vegeta's seat belt to tighten around his chest. A growl ripped through his throat as he shot a glare at Bulma, seething, "Why the hell would you bother buying this piece of scrap metal?"

"Hey! Don't hate on Penelope!" she yelled in defense, patting the dashboard with a freehand. "She gets offended, ya know?"

Vegeta scoffed in disbelief. "You talk to your car?"

"Cars have feelings, too," she stated in a sing-song voice as she took another turn. "I fixed her up when I got her, years ago."

"Hn."

"Not impressed?"

"No."

Bulma purposefully stepped on the brakes once more, causing Vegeta to wheeze. His chest forcefully flew into the seatbelt before his back slammed back against the chewed, cloth interior seat. Spittle flew from his mouth as he spat, "The audacity that you possess continues to astonish me, you stupid female!"

"Aw, thanks," she cooed, offering her partner in crime a flirtatious wink. She pulled the car up beside a curb, stopping a few centimeters away from the edge of the sidewalk. Shifting the gear into park and pulling out her keys from the ignition, she tilted her head in his direction, "You ready?"

That was an understatement of the year!

He unbuckled himself and immediately exited the car, closing the passenger door shut with a forceful slam that rocked the car. Vegeta's nose wrinkled as he took in his low class surroundings. Within the sight lines of the diner were common apartments and outlet shopping.

"Where the hell have you brought me, woman?!" he demanded with a scowl as he moved around the hood of the casket on wheels she called a car, taking care not to gather any of the grime from his surroundings.

Bulma shut her door with her rump, laughing into her small hands. "I brought you to the _ghett-O_!" she exclaimed, hopping onto the sidewalk with a grin. She began to walk forward, swaying her hips side to side. "Welcome to paradise, Prince Vegeta! Where the kitchens are not certified and the food is delicious as long as you don't question it!"

"Don't question it," he muttered as he all but dragged his feet, traveling in her wake. "Why would anyone degrade themselves this low?" He paused at the door, pulled a crisp, perfectly white handkerchief from his dark blue sport coat pocket and used it to grasp the door's handle to open it for his date.

"Because," Bulma gushed slapping his chest, "the food is absolutely amazing!"

She felt Vegeta's brooding presence behind her as a hostess came up to them with a friendly smile. Whatever, Bulma thought with an inward snort as she chose to ignore the man's morose attitude, he'll like the food.

"Hi!" the blonde chirped. "Two?"

"Yes," Bulma nodded, grabbing the cuff of Vegeta's shirt before he could object. He would like this place, damn it! She was determined to force him to enjoy this date, no matter the cost!

Wordlessly, Vegeta allowed himself to be escorted, far too transfixed on his surroundings to object. When they reached a sparkling red, plastic-covered booth seat with silver duct tape covering a series of rips, he froze, aghast. "Find another booth with intact seats! I'm not sitting amid a plumber's upholstery work!"

The Capsule Corp. heiress's face flooded a deep shade of crimson, and she slapped her palms to each cheek. She shook her head as the poor teenage girl stammered, wordless. Bulma sighed exasperatedly as embarrassment practically radiated off of her."No, this is fine," she insisted to the brown eyed girl, "this will do."

The young woman did not be told twice as she dropped menus atop the laminated table, and scampered away.

Bulma whipped around to face Vegeta with a growl of frustration, "Knock it off! You about made the poor girl piss her pants!"

"Look at this place!" Vegeta uttered, featuring around the dining room. "The seats are torn, the table top...is that laminate? is cracked and chipped. Everything in here is covered in a layer of grease!" To prove his point, he wiped the top-most portion of the seat with his handkerchief to show Bulma the substandard cleanliness of the establishment.

Bulma merely rolled her eyes, crossing her arms stubbornly as she sat with a huff. "And I'm sure you have over a hundred other suits at home, so sit your ass down, and have dinner with me, damn it!"

The prim president carefully eyed the booth then sighed. "Order me a-...do they serve beer?" He hoped deep within his heart the establishment had some form of alcohol. Without its aid, he feared he would never survive this night.

The blue-haired beauty sighed as she slumped within her seat, relaxed. She gazed up at the ceiling in quiet thanks to the Kai for Vegeta's surprisingly cooperative behavior.

"Yup," she nodded, glancing back at him before flopping her menu open. "I promise that their desert is the best part," she stated in a sing-song voice as she scanned the small text of the menu, "Maybe it'll even change your mind about this place."

"Hmm." Vegeta glanced around, attempting to locate the facilities. "Order something for me to drink. I'll be back." Without waiting for a response, he strode toward the restroom doors.

Bulma bit the fleshy part of her lower lip, chewing thoughtfully as her stomach growled. She had deprived herself of food for too long, and her blood sugar had dropped. Internally, she would blame Vegeta for starving her.

Giggling softly to herself, she eyed the menu with a vacant stare as she sighed dreamily. Finally - a date with Vegeta! After yearning for one for so long, Bulma could not believe that it was actually happening! Despite his reaction toward her chosen destination, she knew the food would keep him content with the night.

A red-headed waitress sashayed over to her table, her hair frazzled as she whipped out a small checkbook. She flashed a smile, "Hiya, what can I get you to drink?"

"Hm..." Bulma hummed thoughtfully, glancing at the empty seat in front of her. "Two IPAs, and a water, please."

"Sure thing!"

Bulma chuckled as she rested her feet on the opposite, empty cushion. Kami knew Vegeta would need more than one drink if he were to last this dinner.

Chatter enveloped around her, and she sighed contentedly as she closed her menu. She closed her eyes for a fraction of a second, and when she did, a resounding crash could be heard from the restrooms.

She released a groan.

After a series of muted curses, a red-faced Vegeta emerged from the restroom. Much to Bulma's chagrin, she noted a vein pulsing on his forehead and water dripping from his hands...wait! Was that blood?

The fierce executive stalked to the diner's bar. "A towel!" he demanded, spittle flying into the air within his fury.

Bulma sighed as she connected her forehead toward the table with a smack, muttering under her breath. Could he possibly be anymore childish?

Unfortunately, the answer was an affirmative yes.

After snatching a towel from the startled girl of no more than fifteen behind the counter, Vegeta stiffly made his way back to Bulma at their table.

"Well, this has been a most educational experience," he started before she could so much as open her mouth. "I had never dreamed so much graffiti could fit in such a small space. In fact, if you're in need of a good time, call Jenny at 867-5309."

He paused to check the bleeding of his right knuckles.

Bulma lifted her head from the table, peering at the man through her thick, aqua lashes. She allowed a small, unattractive snort to escape her before she managed to crack a smile as the song rang throughout her mind. "As long as you don't charge me more than a dime, maybe this relationship can work."

Her date's eyes narrowed. "Are you mocking me? That place was the most disgusting room I have ever seen! There was piss still in the urinal, which I can't say surprised me since I doubt anyone has cleaned it this century! It smelled like a cesspool! When I tried to wash the filth, the water barely trickled, and it took ten pumps with still no soap!"

Bulma rose a questioning brow as she moved her heeled feet atop his lap, cooing, "I'm not mocking you, I just think you're adorable. Speaking of repulsive lavatories," she had to refrain herself from giggling at his expense, "do you want to explain the loud crash everyone heard, young man?"

The crimson color returned to Vegeta's face. "Instead of towels...there was this damned contraption."

"Was?" Bulma clarified, lifting a perfectly sculpted brow and fighting back a smile.

"Yes! Was!" Vegeta fairly barked at the interruption, making it even harder for her to fight her amusement from her face. "Two cycles through and my damned hands were still dripping wet with Kami only knows what!"

His snarl startled an elderly couple two booths away, and Bulma found herself sending them an apologetic half smile.

"And, the noise?"

"The next thing I knew, the accursed contraption was on the floor and my hands were still dripping," Vegeta finished. "It didn't work anyway. Maybe, now they can something to actually dry a person's hands." Without taking a breath, he raised his voice. "Can we ever get something to drink over here?!"

Bulma leaned over the table, hissing lowly, "Vegeta, seriously? I ordered them, just be patient." Releasing a heavy sigh, she grabbed his right hand, snatching the cloth from his left. She cradled Vegeta's fingers within her own, pressing gently against his bloodied knuckles. "You're such a baby," she mused teasingly, sparing him a glance.

Before she could continue, two frosted glasses of beer and a cup of water appeared before her.

"Thank you," Bulma stated graciously with a nod in the direction of the waitress before pushing the two beers toward Vegeta, "Here, you'll need these to calm down."

The red-headed woman stared wearily at the duo before clearing her throat, "What can I get you two?"

"Does it matter?" Vegeta answered, reaching for a mug. "Just serve me the house slop." He lifted the drink and took a long swill.

Bulma crumpled the bloodied cloth within a small fist, snapping her eyes shut. She inhaled deeply, quickly counting to ten.

Kami, help her.

She gave the waitress a tight-lipped smile, "Chicken fried steak and a Reuben, please."

The waitress scribbled down the order and cautiously retreated from the two before disappearing from sight.

Icy orbs clashed with obsidian.

"Really? Is this place so beneath you that you have to be a total jackass?!"

"Aren't I always a jackass? I wouldn't want to disappoint you." He inspected the newly formed blood clots on the back of his hand. "Hush now and dig in that Dollar Store knapsack you call a purse for some sanitizer."

Bulma growled. "Kate Spade? A dollar store purse my ass!" she grumbled, removing her feet from his lap furiously. She snatched her black, leather bag, snapping it open as she swiped her hand around the clutter. Her fingers wrapped around a small, clean bottle of hand sanitizer before sliding it forcefully toward him.

The secretary pulled her hand away from his and she rested her elbows atop the table. She ground her eyelids against the heel of her palms, watching white stars appear before her pitch black view.

"Ugh…" she huffed, refusing the temptation to pull her hair out by the roots. Could this man possibly be any more incorrigible?! The answer was of course, yes. Bulma could not help but to inwardly curse her foolishness to work for Vegeta.

All because she wanted a job at Wall Street to tie her over until she returned to Capsule Corporation! In all honesty, the only article she thought she could write about Vegeta was about "Top Ten Ways to be an Asshole". Surely, Mrs. Chambers of Wall Street would never approve such a measly article, and would just toss her idea aside.

Not that it mattered, of course.

Bulma inwardly cursed the person attempting to steal her birthright away. If it had not been the numerous threats to kill her family, Bulma would never have had a reason to flee and go undercover. Her best friend would not have wanted to tell Goku Son about the true identity of Cyan Noall. And, she would have never worked for Ouji Enterprises!

….And, she would not have started to fall for her sworn rival.

Oblivious to Bulma's internal dialogue, Vegeta calmly poured a healthy serving of alcohol into his palm, wrinkling his nose at the scent. "What is this? Rainbows and gumdrops?"

The heiress's lips curved upward slightly at Vegeta's sarcastic, albeit very serious question. "No," she responded monotonously, opening the cracks of her fingers so she could peer at him, "Strawberries."

"Bad enough," Vegeta muttered as he set about spreading the gel. "Son of a fucking whore bitch!" he shouted, loudly enough to turn heads. "That shit burns!"

Vegeta pulled the injured paw close to his face and blew on the spot where the alcohol-based gel had mingled with his broken skin.

"Oh my God…" Bulma muttered, her eyes burning with frustrated tears. She was honestly at her breaking point. "Do you always overreact this much?" she leaned over the table, her shirt slipping slightly as she grabbed his hand for a second time. She grabbed a paper napkin as she dipped the edge of it within her water, before dabbing the tops of his knuckles.

"My hand was on fire, like the pits of Dante's hell, and you say I'm over reacting?" Vegeta snatched his beer and drained the glass before muttering incomprehensibly. Tch, this woman is as annoying as a buzzing fly!

Bulma's nostrils flared angrily and she shoved his hand back toward him. She scoffed as she crossed her arms over her chest, "No. You've been overreacting over everything, Vegeta."

"Me? Overreacting? Have you looked in a mirror?!"

Bulma muttered incoherent curses in the Ouji name before her control snapped, "Maybe I will," she hissed, standing from her seat as she snatched her purse, "I need some space from you."

Without another word, Bulma swiveled on her heel and stormed toward the bathroom with clenched fists.

Vegeta watched her storm away before reaching for the second beer. "What's her problem, anyway?"

* * *

Oh, the audacity of that man! Bulma internally screamed as she pushed inside the run-down bathroom. The tiles on the floor were cracked and chipped, along with a long, branched out crack embedded within the wall. The lavatory only contained a single stall, and the door hung loosely on one hinge.

Frowning in disgust, Bulma's heel clicked toward the mirror, and she shuddered. The fake counter was laminate, and the edges curled toward the stained porcelain sink. Staring into the foggy glass, the heiress noted the small, dark green spots upon its edges.

Bulma's nose wrinkled in disgust, "Ew," she gasped, shaking her head. She brought a hand toward her cheek as she internally mocked, 'Have you looked in a mirror?' Bitch, yes I have, and I look fabulou-

She paused mid-thought as something flickered in the corner of her eye. Being the scientist she is, she craned her neck in the direction of the object that moved.

...Only then did she inevitably realize that the object was not an object, and that it had several spindly legs.

A sharp, high-pitched squeal resounded off the walls of the restroom, leading out to the dining room…

* * *

As Bulma rushed from the restroom, she paid little attention to her surroundings until strong arms embraced her, pressing her into a solid chest. "What is it? What happened?"

She paused in her screams long enough to take a breath and look at the man holding her. Vegeta Ouji, Junior.

"What is it, woman?" he persisted, shaking her gently as worry wormed through him. What was this feeling? Concern? "Out with it!"

Unwittingly, Bulma had ran outside into the cool, brisk summer air. A slight breeze ruffled her hair as she clutched Vegeta's pristine white collared shirt. She lifted her chin, dragging her gaze from his torso to meet his. Her right brow twitched with confusion.

Was...Vegeta actually worried about her? His face gave nothing away.

However, a corner of her heart tugged at the sight, and she exhaled shakily as she glanced at the outside of the shabby restaurant. She rested her forehead against his shoulder, mumbling. "The bathroom was disgusting," she bit out, relishing the warmth radiating off of his skin, "...there was a cockroach."

A long silence passed before Vegeta heaved a bark of laughter. "A single roach caused all that?" His customary smirk replaced an signs of compassion he might earlier have expressed. "And you call me dramatic."

"Shut up, jerk!" she snapped, her face flushing a bright pink. "It was a demon roach, I tell ya! It had more legs than it should have, and, and...ugh," she sighed, inhaling deeply to calm her nerves.

He smelled like pine-needles and a gentle, luscious musk.

After a few seconds of silence, she could not help but allow a few giggle to escape her. Soon enough, her giggles turned into full fits of laughter and she threw her head back. "Alright, fine, you were right. I am dramatic. Should we just get take out somewhere else?"

"Oh, no," Vegeta answered with a wicked grin. "You dragged me here, ensuring me I would love the food. We're eating the damned food. What do you want for dessert?"

Bulma pouted. "Damn it," she chuckled under her breath, slapping his chest lightly. She removed her clenched fingers from his shirt, before snaking her arms around his broad neck.

She giggled, brushing her lips against his, "I could think of a few things," she murmured, before pulling away with a cheeky grin. "Buuuuut, they do have amazing pie, so let's go back in. I have to see your reaction."

"You stay here. I'm getting this to go," Vegeta informed her. "Go ahead and push start that horse and buggy of yours."

Bulma stuck her tongue at him, planting a hand on her hip. "Stop making fun of Penelope, jerk!"

Vegeta snickered at her outburst, glad to see her sass had returned to her. "It's a bucket of rusted bolts and a single horsepower left on the engine." He strode toward the diner's door.

"I better see coconut cream pie and a slice of mounds cake when you get back here, Mr. OujI!"

Vegeta snorted before disappearing into the business.

Rolling her eyes as he entered the building, she strutted over toward her ancient buggy. "Don't worry, Penelope," she patted the driver's door, "he'll learn to like you, too."

Sliding into the chewed up leather seat, Bulma released her final sigh for the night. She curled her fingers around the steering wheel, drumming them along the cool metal.

Vegeta showed true compassion, tonight, she thought, drawing her brows together in confusion. It was almost...dare I say, comforting.

She smiled at the thought, tilting her head as she watched his silhouette move like a prince inside the grotesque restaurant.

"Poor guy, didn't know what the ghetto even was, probably," she muttered with a snort. She smiled at the sight of him exiting the restaurant, a large paper bag in hand.

The small car, so lovingly named Penelope, sagged as Vegeta heavily plopped into the passenger seat. "Get us out of here," he gave his royal command as the scenes of their order filed the tiny space.

The delicious aroma of greasy food wafted into her nostrils and she released a moan. "Oh my Kami," she moaned as her mouth watered and her stomach roared, "I'm starving!"

She shifted the gear into drive, shooting a side-glance toward her boss. "Where to, hm?"

"Somewhere without roaches. Somewhere...quiet."

His black eyes scanned their surroundings before he picked up his phone and began entering information.

"A demon roach," she corrected as she spun out of her parking spot, "It had six heads, like Scylla. And, you didn't even see one!"

Bulma shuddered within her seat as Penelope puttered along the quiet streets of the city. She glanced at Vegeta, smiling slightly as the light of his phone illuminated his handsome features.

Her line of sight flickered back toward the road as she came to a stop at a red light.

"Take a left," Vegeta ordered, ignoring her continued modification about her encounter with Diablo Cucaracha.

Turning on her left blinker, a soft, ticking noise resonated throughout the car. Seconds after his command, the light turned a green hue and she twisted her wheel before speeding up slowly.

"At least I didn't knock down an air dispenser," she giggled, her eyes focusing on their surroundings. The streets were beginning to widen, and they were exiting the heart of East City. "Where are we going?"

"It spewed cold air," Vegeta retorted. "Right here."

Bulma's eyes spotted a small parking lot toward her next left, and she swung into it. The area was desolate with the exception of street lamps offering a warm, homely glow to the pavement of the streets. Slowly, Bulma parked into a tight space before turning the keys in the ignition.

She leaned back, resting her head within the nook between the seat and headrest. Her eyes moved to the corner of their sockets, glancing at the brooding man beside her, silently questioning him. Shaking her head with a slight smile, Bulma unbuckled her seatbelt and flung her door open, stepping out into the night air.

Raising a perfectly shaped brow, Bulma followed him out of the parking lot. She crossed her arms, one over the other in suspicion as she neared the wooden picnic table he had sat upon. She brushed past a large, old oak tree that rustled its leaves, dropping acorns near its stump.

Pursing her lips, Bulma sat across from him as she spotted a few yards away: a park.

"Hm," she hummed, bringing her gaze to the sky in awe. Stars winked at the duo, hundreds and thousands of them strewn across the inky sky. "Good choice."

"It's quiet," he noted. "I don't know which is which." In frustration, he shoved the bag toward her and reached for the cups containing their beverages. "It's water," he announced as he sat the lidded cup before her.

Bulma reached a dainty hand within the paper bag, grabbing the first, plastic to-go box. She flipped open the lid, and a steam rolled off of the hot food. "Yours," she spoke quietly as she pushed his meal toward him. Shoving her hand within the bag again, she felt three other boxes. Two were smaller than the other, causing her to smile as she pulled out her Reuben. "Aw, you got me dessert - it better be cake and pie."

"It's decent," he answered enigmatically as he poked his food with a white plastic fork. "Besides, aren't you watching your girlish figure?"

Her sandwich was halfway to her mouth before she postponed the food's trip toward her desired destination. Glaring, she opened her mouth to snap at him, but his eyes stopped her.

They were dancing with several emotions, offering her insight onto what he was possibly thinking.

She tilted her head to the side, noticing the way that his eyes were slightly crinkled in the corners. What he said had been a joke! Is that even possible? she mused, pursing her lips to prevent a smile. Why had Vegeta been so...kind? It was quite unusual for him to be in such a decent mood, let alone nice. Gently, Bulma kicked his shin with her pointed heel. "Girlish? You want to run that by me again?"

"Sure," Vegeta smirked, "if you'll run that figure by me again."

"Are you calling me fat?!" Bulma's lower jaw dropped, a incredulous gasp escaping her agape mouth. "I can have this figure never touch yours again, buddy!"

Vegeta's shoulders began to shake, slowly at first then with more movement as the sounds of his laughter carried to her ears. He leaned over the table, challenging, "Want to make a bet on that?"

The heiress threw her oceanic locks over one shoulder as she licked crumbs of rye from her lips, before throwing down her sandwich. "Actually, yes. Yes I do."

Vegeta's eyes seemed to emit their own light as he rose from his seat. Twigs and acorns cracked and popped beneath the soles of his fine Italian loafers as he slowly stalked around the table, his dark chocolate eyes burning into her skin.

Bulma released a squeal before shooting up from the picnic table. She held her hands in front of her defensively as she began backing away with a weary expression.

"Going to try running in those stilts?" Vegeta smirked as he moved closer with each breath.

"You actually might be impressed with how fast I could run with these things on," she retorted as she reached for her feet quickly. "Buuuut, I won't risk it tonight."

She grabbed each heel, chucking one in his direction as she held the other out defensively. Adrenaline coursed through her veins as her body tingled in anticipation.

A wolfish grin gracing his face, Vegeta steadily moved closer. He could hear her ragged breathing, and it sent a shiver of excitement down his spine. "You want me to catch you," he confidently spoke as he moved closer still.

"No!" she exclaimed back with another squeal as he teasingly lunged toward her, causing her to jump back a few feet. "Then I'd lose the bet!"

"Trust me, this is a bet you want to lose," he coaxed, closely watching her movements. Without any warning, as agile as any feline, he snatched the shoe from her grasp.

A second squeal passed through her ruby red lips as she began to back away faster, nearing the playground. "Puh-lease, homeboy!" she tried to sound confident as her heart pounded against her chest, "I've hit a few, consecutive home runs with you - maybe I've had my fill!"

Vegeta snorted at the absurdity of her words. "You're grasping for straws, but that's okay. It'll be even more fun when I get my hands on you."

Bulma's heart dropped to the acidic depths of her stomach, and her lips parted. His words were laced with a haunted promise, and that left her to do the only thing that came to her mind: run.

With a shriek of laughter, Bulma pivoted on her heel and bolted toward the play structure, with him on her tail. Giggling, Bulma flew up the stairs that lead to various things: monkey bars, towers, and a large, twisty slide.

She deemed the latter to be her best shot at escape.

Leaping after her, Vegeta quickly caught his prey around her waist. Using his greater mass, he pulled her to the floor of the equipment, landing hard on the diamond pressed steel.

"Don't struggle," his whispered in her ear, his voice growing husky as he kissed her throbbing pulse.

Bulma whimpered slightly, heavily breathing as she giggled, "You know, that's what the creepers say in the movies."

With a deep chuckle, he allowed his right hand to crawl from her trim waist to her ample bosom. "Is that enough creeping for you?"

Laughter bubbled in the back of her throat as her chest happily vibrated. She brushed her plump lips against his tawny-colored ones. "Only if you tie me up, maybe," she responded with a cheeky smirk, using all of her might to push him onto his backside. "You know," she panted, grinning, "I wanted to go down the slide," she pouted, "but then you caught me."

The hand cupping Bulma's breast released only to travel to her chin. He gently pulled her face closer and deeply kissed her. "I think I can arrange for both your wishes."

Bulma felt her weight being lifted from her behind then resettled in Vegeta's lap. In the tight space, he managed to turn them both toward the slide.

"Close your eyes," he commanded in her ear.

Bulma's eyes narrowed suspiciously as she turned her head to the side slightly, her mouth hovering over his. "You better not send me off on my own and laugh at me," she warned, reaching for his hands. She interlaced her fingers within his, relaxing her back against his chest as she slid her eyelids shut.

Lips brushed Bulma's cheek before they began moving, gaining speed as they rushed toward the conclusion of their short ride.

Bulma's laugh filled Vegeta's ears as the wind whipped through her hair.

Suddenly, they were stationary, his arms around her smaller frame. "My place or yours?" he whispered into her ear.

"I think my studio is a little too ghetto for you, Mr. Ouji," she joked with a smile as she turned to face him, bringing a hand to one of his smooth cheeks. "But, I don't know," she whispered, her hot breath cascading across his pores, "will you even be able to make it that far?"

"For what I have planned, I think so." His lips caught her fingertips for a soft kiss. "For the record, I'm fond of your figure."

"Good," she grinned, resting her forehead against his, "because that's the most exercise I've gotten in months. And, my routine wasn't going to change, buddy!"

The dim street lamps highlighted the curl of Vegeta's smirk. "I have a different exercise program in mind."

In a single, smooth movement, Vegeta stood and swung Bulma into his arms. His lips grazed hers, and they were on their way toward her abandoned apparel.

A hot, searing heat spread throughout her entire being as she gazed at Vegeta through her lashes. Her heart skipped a few beats as she stared into his usually vacant eyes.

Their corners were crinkled, sparkling as they smiled brightly at her. Tonight, they shone with life.

Her breathing hitched in her throat at the sight, and she dragged thumb along his lower lip before pressing her mouth against his.

When she pulled away, she released a giggle as he picked up her shoes.

"Alright, Prince Charming!" she exclaimed as she pivoted on her heel, leaping away from him. She began to run to her car, and her voice followed behind her, "a part of this exercise regimen begins with you running toward the car so we can speed this up!"

"I'll walk to give you time to push start that box of bolts!" he retorted without missing a beat, though he jogged close enough behind her to swat her rump.

Bulma squeaked, and used her hands to cover her heart-shaped rear. "Hey! I bet I could reach Penelope and start her faster, anyways!"

"I'll speed you up with another slap," he threatened, unable to prevent a carefree laugh from escaping. Was this what a true relationship was like? Relationship? his nose wrinkled at the thought as the word unsettled him. I am not actually thinking such nonsense, am I?

"For Kami's sake, I'm not a horse, Vegeta!"

Vegeta returned his attention toward the woman running in front of him, and he smirked. "Well..." He left the thought uncharacteristically open-ended as he stepped around to the passenger side of the tiny wagon.

"You're...ugh!" she retorted with a soft laugh before sliding beside him. She booted him to the side with her rear before tossing him the keys. "Here, you drive Penelope, and she'll release her wrath upon you!"

A growl filled the small space as he rammed the key home, eager to finish what they had begun. On the third try, Vegeta managed to get the finicky engine to turn over. He took a deep breath followed by a deep sigh of exhalation as he tried to steady himself.

"Just like any other woman." He smirked at Bulma. "Well...almost."

* * *

Bulma had been silent for the whole trip, but once they had arrived, she bursted into a fit of giggles as she leaned toward her date. "Vegeta Ouji, do you not know how to drive a stick shift? That was the worst ride in history: ever."

With a deep growl, he was upon her, his lips crushing hers to the point of a pleasurable pain. "I know how to make motors purr," he reminded her. Ha, as if she needed the reminder! "You are the expert on driving sticks." He kissed her again and to emphasize his point, he took her slender hand and rested it on his crotch.

Melting into the kiss, Bulma shuddered with delight as she threaded the fingers of one hand within his mane. She tugged at his hair's roots, and she leaned forward only to be abruptly halted by the strap around her chest. Growling, she pulled away from him before offering a saucy smile. "Can I drive yours tonight, Mr. Ouji?"

"Come on, so you can show me your skills." He pecked her lips and unsnapped her belt.

The heiress chuckled. "We kinda need to get out of Penelope first."

"That's why you're belt is loose." He began backing away then rushed forward for another quick kiss.

Using all his willpower, Ouji dragged himself from the tiny toy car.

Would Vegeta always leave her wanting more? She stared at him through the tinted driver's window of her little buggy, her heart swelling.

Licking her lips and tasting him, she rattled the passenger door open, her petite feet connecting with the pavement. Her toes curled against the cold ground, but she sauntered over toward Vegeta, her cheeks stretched upward.

Vegeta paused before lifting her into his arms, encouraging her to wrap her legs around his waist. He pressed her back against the wall of the garage as he kissed her deeply. His tongue traced her teeth before slipping into her mouth, earning him a moan.

Bulma's fingers curled at the nape of his neck, digging into his hairline. She bucked her hips against his as he squeezed her heart-shaped rear. "Vegeta," she groaned out in a whisper, her head tilting toward the side, "inside."

"That's my plan." Vegeta's arms adjusted to more readily carry her as he hurried to his penthouse door, pausing only to kick it closed before going into his bedroom and dropping her on the edge of the bed.

Oceanic locks sprawled across the mattress, and the plush cushion sunk down under their weight. He had rested the palms of his hands on either side of her head, pressing his body flush against hers. She did not break their eyes contact, and her heart pounded against the confinement of her ribcage.

Vegeta's eyes were a stormy mess; raging with several emotions all at once and she exhaled gaze was longing, filled with wanton and desire. But, there was something else - something more, something stronger - was it...love?

Whatever it was, she knew she would have opportunities few and far inbetween before she would see this gaze again. She brought a hand to his face as he rested his forehead against hers, she murmured, "You're different tonight. A good different."

"Perhaps," he murmured and kissed her lips. He paused to stand and relieve himself of his coat, tie, buttoned shirt and the white tee shirt beneath. When his eyes returned to Bulma, the obvious passion within them was tempered by a tenderness she still had a difficult time believing.

Bulma chewed her lower lip as he finger outlined his abdominal muscles, her gaze moving from his, toward his mouth. They had never been this slow and passionate all the other times they had consummated. He had never been so gentle, so loving...

Pressing her swollen lips against his, she pushed herself into a sitting position as she began to pull her black blazer from her arms. She gasped as one of his large hands cupped her bare, right breast. "Vegeta…"

"Yes, Cyan?" He reached for her shoulders and slowly began undressing her, his eyes lingering on each fresh inch of flesh he revealed, feasting on the sight of her. There was always a time for rough or gentle sex - and he did not know which time this was, nor did he care. He just wanted to touch every inch of her porcelain skin.

Every single fibre of her being was a temptation that he had not yet quelled, making him act like an inexperienced youth, sloppy in his desire to ravage her. Releasing a chuff, he tugged down Bulma's jeans and she moaned, lifting her hips to arch against him. He released a delicious groan beside her ear, digging his covered erection against her heated core. "Cyan…"

Her breathing hitched at the name of her fake identity. The person she was pretending to be, the reality she was pretending to live in. Could she continue this sinful infatuation and attraction toward the man that her company was sworn enemies with?

She took one glance into his obsidian orbs, and her uvula shriveled up into a dry patch. _He was never my enemy,_ she thought as she wrapped her arms around his torso, her fingernails digging into the flesh of his back.

No. Tonight, and from now on, she would forget her identity, because a part of her was Cyan Noall, as well as Bulma Brief. And a part of her loved Vegeta Ouji, Juniour.

Bulma tugged off her shirt and unclipped her bra, allowing for his eyes to feast upon her bust. "You slid down the slide with me," she hummed, bringing her mouth against his ear, "but you still haven't tied me up."

"Next time," he promised as he pushed her back into his grey satin sheets. Her breasts pillowed out to her sides, full and lush and glowing in the faint moonlight streaming into the room. Her pert nipples contracted against the room's cold air, begging for his attentive kisses. "Tonight, I have something else in mind."

To prevent her saying anything to ruin the moment, he kissed her deeply and thoroughly until all rights other than their love making were far from either of their minds.

* * *

 **So, how was it? This was a pretty fun chapter to write, considering all the cutesy stuff that happened during the date. I'm sorry if Vegeta is OOC in this story-I promise that when we move into the sequel, things will all fall into place.**

 **By the way, I have recently created a tumblr, and you can find the link on my profile! Please be sure to check it out-I'm pretty responsive to any messages you guys send me, so they're all welcomed!**

 **I'm cooking up another storm with a soon-to-be story, hopefully, so be prepared. ;)**

Until next time!

 **DoV**


	11. Chapter 11

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing of Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z, or GT. I'm just a happy little camper (student) who writes in her free time, and hangs out with her dogs. Additionally, the cover photo is a photo I found from surfing on the internet and belongs to the rightful owner (whoever it may be)._**

 _ **Can you blame me? It was a sexy picture of Vegeta.**_

 ** _Beta: Myself._**

 ** _Posted: 6-22-15_**

* * *

If Bulma had not been locked against Vegeta's chest all night, she would have flipped and turned in every direction, searching for a more comfortable position. It did not matter which way she twisted, or her how desperate attempts of escape, the flame-haired man would only pull her closer toward his chest.

Eventually, partway through the night, she had given up. She figured it was senseless to move away from the lightly dozing man, considering the tension that would form between them every time she attempted to flee.

Sighing, Bulma rested her cheek against Vegeta's bicep that was stuck beneath her head. Light peered through his dark curtains, illuminating the room in a soft, morning glow. The heiress stared at the man holding her in a tight embrace, huffing quietly in annoyance.

She had the sudden urge to pee.

Drawing her thighs together, she squeezed them tightly, praying to Kami that Vegeta would wake soon. Moving around restlessly within his arms, Bulma pushed at his chest lightly in attempts to shove him away and be released.

"Woman."

His chest vibrated against the pads of her fingers, causing her to cast her gaze toward his chest. He pulled her toward his muscular torso, tightening his embrace around her small figure. She felt his mouth press gently against the crown of her head as he rumbled, "Stop squirming."

Bulma shivered at the sound of his husky, sleep-ladened voice. She stole a glance at his closed eyelids, noting the scowl digging into his cheek as his chest rose and fell slowly.

"Vegeta," she croaked with a parched, dry throat. "I really, really need to pee."

The president growled softly, prying his eyelids open. He unwrapped his arms from her body, sighing, "Go." He turned to lay upon his back, throwing a careless forearm to cover his eyes from the rays of sunshine that washed the room with light.

Without another moment to lose, Bulma bounded up from the bed and zipped toward the bathroom. She shut the door behind her with a swift click.

Vegeta sighed, irritated. His tongue poked out from his mouth and lapped at his thin lips, relishing the taste of her against his tastebuds. Oddly, he had been relaxed the moment they had stepped foot near the park. Too comfortable, for his liking.

He had restrained his primal instincts to lose himself within her, and instead he was careful with her. More careful and gentle than he had been in the past times of their intercourse. What is this woman doing to me? he internally raged before slipping out a few, quiet curses.

Meanwhile, within the lavatory, Bulma was inspecting her visage in the mirror hung above the granite counters. She frowned at the sight of small bruises littering her chest, and circling around her breasts. "Vulgar man," she hissed under her breath, her nose wrinkling in distaste. Despite actually making love to her for the first time, he had still left her a present of hickeys. She trudged out of the bathroom in all her naked glory, muttering, "Jackass…"

The flame-haired man removed his forearm from his face before tilting his head to the side, his dark stare feasting upon her body. He watched her slow, fluid movements as she sashayed toward his large walk-in and entered. His ears twitched as he heard her shuffle through his clothes, and she reemerged a few moments later, with a large, dark blue shirt hanging loosely upon her shoulders.

He rose his brows in question as she neared the mattress, her knees digging into the sides of the messy satin sheets.

Bulma fell onto her hands, sitting atop the bed on all fours as she tilted her head, giggling. "Good morning."

"Hn," he hummed in response, his eyes attempting to peer down his shirt that she wore. His gaze rose back toward her flushed cheeks, and he smirked. "Who said you could get out of bed and get dressed?"

"You did," she uttered, fighting back a smile, "when you let me go."

Vegeta's hand snapped around her wrist, and he tugged her toward his chest with a smirk. He tantalizingly brushed his lips over hers whilst wrapping his other arm securely around her waist. "I suppose I will just have to trap you once more."

The scientist released a squeal as she was flipped onto her backside, his chest pressing down against hers, disabling any movement from her end. "Vegeta!" she squealed happily, struggling against him as he grabbed both of her wrists within one palm, pinning them above her head.

"Cyan."

"Let me go!"

He chuckled as she wriggled beneath him, moving her body to and fro, sending shivers down his spine. He shot her a toothy grin before his head dove down beside her ear, his hot breath skimming across her skin, "No."

Vegeta's lips attacked Bulma's neck, nipping at the sensitive flesh marked with love wounds from the previous night. He heard her sigh as she wrapped her bare legs around his waist, locking her ankles. He moved his lips above hers, moving them slowly against hers. Trapping her lower lip between his, he sucked the flesh between his teeth and she gasped.

Her eyelids began to flutter rapidly, her gaze glossed over with a lust-filled haze. He pulled away from her with a pop before returning to the untouched side of her neck. Just as she ground her hips against his in frustration, her phone began to profusely ring within her purse.

"Vegeta," she gasped as he merely ignored the sound, continuing his sensual torture. He nibbled at the sensitive flesh covering her pulse, causing her to moan as she twisted her wrists, writhing his grasp. "Please," she whispered out in a groan, arching her back from the bed, "it could be important."

Growling, the flame-haired man pulled away from her neck before releasing her wrists. She shot him an apologetic look and he merely released a chuff as he rolled off of her.

Reaching for the oak nightstand next to her side of the bed, he watched intently as she lifted her purse. She quickly dug around before grabbing her phone, and rising from the bed. Pressing the phone to her ear, she slipped away from his sight and all he heard was a soft, "Hello?"

Vegeta rose into a sitting position, rubbing his face with his left hand before dragging it through his mane. "Fuck," he hissed in irritation as his narrowed eyes searched for his discarded briefs. What spell had she casted upon him?

* * *

The beauty leaned against the wooden framing holding tall, ceiling to floor windows that stretched across one wall. She stared out into the horizon that was sprawled with numerous colors, illuminating the industrialized East City. Sighing into the speaker of her phone, she questioned, "Hello?"

"Hello, Ms. Noall."

A tremor rolled down Bulma's spine at the familiar voice of a woman, her heart pausing for a beat. She tilted the speaker away from her mouth so that she could exhale shakily, before answering, "Hello, Mrs. Chambers."

"How is your progress for the story coming along? I do hope it's well, you only have a month in a half left."

Bulma's blood ran cold, turning to ice within her veins. She chewed the inside of her fleshy pink cheek, her mind racing for a valid response, "I need another two week extension," she suddenly blurted, cringing when she heard Chamber's ragged breathing. "I...I think I may have something, but I need two more weeks - that will make my due date till the beginning of September."

"Oh?" The woman's sticky sweet voice chilled Bulma to the bone, and the CEO laughed cheerily, "Why would I allow you that? What intel have you gathered?"

"I...I want to remain discreet until I know the information I have is concrete," she gulped, her ears twitching as she heard Vegeta rustling around in the next room. "I don't want something this big to be released if it's not true."

"Big?"

"Yes, _big_ ," Bulma repeated in a hiss, her fingers tightening around her phone. "I don't want to disclose anything with you...yet."

"Very well," the CEO responded monotonously. Bulma could practically see the woman's cold, cruel smile. "I will grant you your extra two weeks, but if this ends up being a bust, I will ruin you. Understand?"

The heiress of Capsule Corp. was about to respond confidently, but froze as two arms wrapped tightly around her waist. Her eyes stared vacantly into the dim reflection of her lover within the window, and she gulped. "Alright, I...understand."

"Something...amiss?" Vegeta whispered as he lowered his mouth to Bulma throat, nibbling the thin flesh.

Bulma felt her stomach churn at his voice, her gaze wavering with guilt. She was on the phone with the one woman who would publish her future story about his company….the same article that would destroy him and his business if she went through with publishing. The scientist shook her head, her lips parting as she refused to encourage his intimate touches.

Rather than accept her refusal, Vegeta cupped her chin, gently turning her face toward his. "Cyan," he purred deeply in his throat as he pressed his lips to hers.

Bulma quenched a moan in the back of her throat, melting into his kiss as he deepened it. Inhaling sharply when she realized she was still on the phone, she broke their connection, cradling one of his cheeks within her hand. Gently, she cleared her throat as she chewed on her lower lip, nervously.

"Are you with someone?"

Bulma exhaled heavily. "No, I'm alone," she lied, breaking her gaze from Vegeta's, finding her feet to be a more interesting sight. "Anything else?"

A thick, single brow raised at Bulma's lie as Vegeta lips curled into a smirk.

Strong hands turned her body until she was flush against his. "Alone?" he whispered into her ear, his voice tickling the canal. "Not hardly." His tongue traced the shell of her ear before his teeth latched around her lobe, tenderly suckling and nibbling the bit of flesh.

A shudder rolled down each vertebrae of her spine and her toes curled as a pang of heat struck her core. Her breathing hitched within her throat before becoming ragged. Wanton desire exploded throughout her body just with the simplest touches and caresses from him; he drove her absolutely mad! Gooseflesh scattered across her skin as her vision became dazed.

Mrs. Chambers chortled through the phone, clearly amused. "No. I expect to be updated soon about progress, Ms. Noall."

"Yes, ma'am," she replied breathlessly as she pressed a trembling hand against Vegeta's chest, shooting him a glare. Bulma frowned as she pushed him away in annoyance, slapping his pectoral for good measure. How dare he try to act cute while she was on the phone?!

With the added distance, Vegeta bent to nibble at her throat and was pleased at the soft yelp she exhaled as he squeezed her perfectly rounded rump.

"Enjoy your day, Cyan."

Bulma sighed with relief when the other end of the line went dead. Almost immediately, she carelessly tossed her phone toward the leather couch, wrapping her hands around Vegeta's neck. She huffed furiously with a pout, "Are you serious?"

"V _errry_ ," he purred, pulling her closer until their hips pressed together. He chuckled as she gasped at the strained bulge resting against her stomach, and he placed small kisses along her jawline. "Would you believe I was lonely?"

She stifled a moan as he lowered a hand to cup her center, relieving the pressure building between her thighs. Her knees began to wobble as she gasped breathlessly, arching her back and grinding against his hand. With a growl, she deadpanned, "No, but I'd take you for more enjoying my frustration with you."

"It seems you're learning," Vegeta answered with his small, trademark smile. "So, who was that on the other phone?" His obsidian eyes narrowed dangerously as he removed his hand from her weeping core. "Another boyfriend, perhaps?"

 _Boyfriend?_ Vegeta ducked his head to bury his face in the crook of her neck as he dealt with the shock of his words. _What the hell possessed me to imply I'm her...boyfriend?_

Bulma's hooded lids flew open in surprise, and her eyebrows rose with astonishment. She did a double-take as his words registered within the nooks of her mind, and she blinked profusely. _Does he seriously think that I am seeing someone else? Wait. Doesn't that make him jealous? Did he say boyfriend? Oh my Kami…_

She could not help the laughter that bubbled within her chest and busted past her throat at the incredulous thought. He could not be serious...right? Vegeta, jealous?! She softly giggled into his ear, and felt him shift uncomfortably. Immediately, she realized her mistake and she slapped a petite hand to her mouth. _Shit…_

As Bulma's giggle hit his sensitive ears, Vegeta's head shot up, his lips twisting into a growl. "You laugh?!" His hand instinctively tightened on the buttock he had been caressing only moments before. "Do you think it's funny, the idea of getting into my bed and my head while having your real fun elsewhere?"

Inhaling sharply with a hiss, Bulma clutched Vegeta's forearms, digging her nails into his bronzed skin. Her muscles tensed beneath his tight grip and she winced.

"Vegeta," she whispered, bringing a hand to cup his cheek, and she gazed at him wearily. Where had the sudden temper come from? He was notorious for it, but not in this fashion...at least, as far as she knew. "I would never do that to you," she whispered sincerely, resting her forehead against his, promising, "Ever."

"Oh?" Vegeta studied her face, his anger fueling further interrogation. His grip tightened around her hips as he growled, "In that case, who was on the phone?"

"A friend," she whimpered lightly, breathing shakily as a small speck of fear spread throughout her veins like a wildfire. Why was he so angered? Her heart pounded against her chest as her thumb dragged across one of his angular cheekbones soothingly. "Please," she spoke softly, placing a peck against his lips. "Vegeta, I promise."

Though he would deny it to the end of his days, Vegeta was shaken by how the thought of her seeing someone behind his back angered him. A _m I developing...feelings for her?_

He shook away the thought with a dangerous growl and released his quarry. I've got to get away from her to get my thoughts straight.

"I'm hungry. Go start breakfast while I shower."

Bulma numbly nodded, pulling away from his aggressive touch. She casted her gaze toward the floor and bit the inside of her cheek. She turned away from him, and her bare feet padded lightly against the bright wooden floors.

She walked down two steps that led to the opening of a large living room, and off to the side: a sleek, glimmering kitchen with a dining table and chairs off to the right.

In the corner of her eyes, Bulma saw his sulking silhouette quickly pace out of the room. She threw her locks up into a messy bun, baby hairs curling around her forehead. Sighing, Bulma opened a stainless steel fridge, her eyes glancing at what its contents had to offer.

* * *

The silence of Vegeta's bathroom was deafening. He quickly flipped a wall switch to activate the room's vent fan. The sound soothed his raw nerves but did little to chase the thoughts from his mind.

Cyan? Did he truly care for her? Wasn't she just another fuck like the other women? He swallowed the dry lump within his throat, knowing that she was not just another girl. She had slowly been becoming his girl.

Determined to move forward without the weight of feelings on his shoulders, he stepped into his open-air shower.

Hot steam swirled around his chiseled body, and he winced as the heat caused a searing pain across his knuckles. Good, he thought as he watched a thin, fresh line of blood dripped with the water, disappearing with a spin around the drain. Pain will clear my head of thoughts of her.

His hand tightened into a fist so tight it turned white except the fresh blood seepage. That woman...

A smack resounded through the cavernous room as Vegeta battered hand slapped the stone wall. "Damned woman!"

He growled loudly and struck the wall a second time. How could I let this happen?!

"I set out to seduce her!" he raged before pursuing his broad forehead against the wall. "I was supposed to seduce...her," he mumbled as he accepted the fact that the opposite was in fact the truth.

Water continued to pour down his body, slowly soothing his emotions until he found himself able to return to slowly washing his body, dressing and seeking out the strange woman, his secretary Cyan Noall, who had worked her way into his life, his heart.

* * *

Freshly peeled potatoes sat in a drainer within the sink, dripping wet. Bulma grabbed the handles of the stainless steel appliance, and shook it, allowing droplets of water to splatter against the deep edges of the sink. Resting the drainer on the counter, she grabbed the potatoes before plopping them down upon a wooden cutting board.

She sucked in a nervous breath as she grabbed a knife, carefully dicing the potatoes with a nervous tremble. "Please, let the Kai give me the prowess that my mother has that I lack," she whispered under her breath, moving her knife a little more quickly to make small, square cuts.

Grabbing the cutting board, she carried it to a sizzling hot pan with oil, dumping the little square chunks inside. They pop and cracked the moment they hit the skillet, and Bulma squealed with joy. "Holy shit, I'm cooking!"

Now, let's turn this to low so I don't burn it...she thought with a cringe as she turned the stove's dial down before turning her attention toward the bacon. "Gotta cook me some bacon," she hummed whipping around to face the counter once more. However, in the far off corner of the room, her eyes latched onto an outdated object.

Curiosity got the better of her, and she turned her head in the direction of the large, silver...stereo? "Oh?" she breathed in disbelief before bursting into a fit of giggles as she hopped over to the electronic device. "Oh my God," she repeated, covering her mouth to stifle laughter. "A stereo system?! This thing's a dinosaur!"

And oddly enough, that's when she was tempted to press a few buttons…

* * *

Flipping the last slice of bacon onto a now grease-splotched paper towel, Bulma smiled victoriously as she pressed down upon the oily pieces of meat. She danced on the balls of her feet with a large grin plastered onto her face, all thoughts of Vegeta vanishing from her mind.

 _"That's all they really want, some fun, oooh girls, they just wanna have fun!"_

The song blared throughout the small kitchenette as she swayed her lush hips to the beat, whistling to the old hit. She began cracking eggs into the pan with bacon grease, one after another before the black skillet withheld five egg yolks.

"And, oooooh oh oh," she laughed, cracking black pepper over the protein-filled delicacies. She knew she was terribly out of tune, but this wasn't the time to keep that in mind! "Girls just wanna have fuuun!"

Shaking her rounded rump to the beat, Bulma waltzed over to several cabinets, opening them in search for plates. "Aha!" she announced, grabbing two plates and two tall glasses. She brought them over to the dining table, setting them down.

Rushing back over to her eggs, Bulma watched them intensely as she waved around a rubber spatula within her hand as if she were the Fairy Godmother in the flesh.

"Some boys take a beautiful girl, and hide her from the rest of the world…"

"Ohh girls, they just wanna have fuuuun!"

Rather than interrupt Bulma as she made a fool of herself, Vegeta simply leaned against a wall, his arms crossed over his chest, clad in a plain white tee shirt. His boxer-brief covered thighs shifted as his ankles crossed.

His dark eyes watched her shimmy and shake to the ancient music until they nearly closed in a wince. "Are you tone deaf, woman?!"

Bulma turned toward him, her face flushing with embarrassment. She used the stereo's remote to turn down the music. Deaf, did he say? Instead of allowing him to make fun of her, she leaned in his direction, placing a cupped hand behind the shell of her ear. "WHAT?!" she hollered, before standing and giggling at his aggravated facial features.

"I said, 'tone deaf,' not simply deaf, you fool."

His scowl firmly in place, the handsome man crossed the room to stare at the sunlight glinting from the innumerable buildings below.

She stuck her tongue at him before waving her hand, turning back to the stove. As she flipped each egg, one by one, she commented, "Yeah, yeah! I hear ya. You're just no fun."

The music still filled their ears, and she could not help but to sway with the rhythm, humming.

As Vegeta's eyes surveyed the city, East City, his city, a sense of power flowed through him. He was Ouji Junior, and the world laid at his feet. He could have anything his heart desired.

His heart...

The smell of breakfast hung heavily in the air.

What did he desire?

He knew the answer to that.

Without turning from the panoramic before him, he addressed his new pseudo cook. "How much longer do you have before your lease is out?"

"Hm?" Bulma turned the dial for both the eggs and chopped up hashbrowns, grabbing two hot pads. She quietly walked over to the table, throwing down both hot pads before returning to both pans, and the wrapped bacon. "It's a short term lease," she shrugged, setting the sizzling equipment atop the pads of cloth. She rested the spatula across both pans as a serving tool.

"So...it's just a month-to-month sort of deal right now," she continued softly, padding over toward the fridge. She tugged it open, bending over and grabbing a paper-carton of orange juice. "I just kinda moved out of my parents not too long before I applied to work for you."

Unscrewing the cap, she grabbed a glass and filled it halfway before repeating the process with a second cup. She turned her head in his direction, her eyebrows drawing together. "Why?"

Silence hung heavily in the room as Vegeta considered his next move.

"You're taking today off." The flame-haired executive turned to face his guest. "You're going to pack your things and put them in storage. Then," he infused one arm for a dismissive wave, "find some room in my closet for your clothes."

Bulma's lips parted in surprise, and the cool carton of juice almost slipped from her fingers. Resting it atop the table before she could spill it, she inhaled deeply. Did she hear him correctly? Was he...inviting her to live with him?

No - no, she could not do that! She was his secretary, for God's sake! She was supposed to be digging for a story...searching for information about him. Not...not, falling deeper in love with him.

Did she even want to live with him? Did she truly want to be near him all the time? She thought back to his reaction this morning when he assumed she was with someone else…

She shuddered at the thought - he scared her, yet, he made her feel safe. Bulma shut her eyes tightly as she chewed her lower lip. The scientist within her could not understand why he desired her so intensely, or why he wanted her to reside with him.

It was almost as if her brain had a short circuit that needed to be rebooted. She could not possibly accept, could she?

I don't need him, she thought stubbornly, reopening her eyes as she released a bated breath. Her gaze met his, confusion etched onto her face. "Vegeta…"

"Close your mouth before you catch flies," he snapped, walking over toward the table and pulling out his chair and sitting. "Just nod your head and get on with breakfast."

Bulma pursed her lips, exhaling loudly through her nostrils. She walked over to a drawer, grabbing silverware before returning to the table for a final time, plopping into her seat. "Here," she said softly, leaning above his plate to set his cutlery in place.

Somehow, Vegeta knew better than to simply thank his cook. He eyed his food and poked it with his fork before taking a tentative bite.

The heiress merely rolled her eyes with a huff as she dug into her food. Her fork scraped against the porcelain white plate with a slight squeal. She peered at him through her lashes, her heart picking up a beat as she watched him eat.

 _I'm not seriously thinking about moving in...am I?_ she internally screamed, chewing thoughtfully on her food as she avoided his gaze. _Why in hell would I be thinking about this? Does he think he's my boyfriend?...Are we boyfriend and girlfriend?_

A foreign emotion plucked a few heart strings as her tummy swelled with an odd sensation of guilt. She was somehow employed to a magazine company with a psychotic CEO out to destroy the Ouji name, and he was her ultimate rival.

And worst of all, he did not know that.

Yet.

Quietly, Bulma whispered, "I...I don't know if it's such a good idea."

"Of course it isn't!" he barked after swallowing, his grip around his fork tightening. "It's the stupidest idea I've ever had!" His eyes rose to meet her bright baby blues. "That's why we should do it."

"Vegeta," she laughed, dropping her fork onto her plate before pressing the heels of her hands toward her closed eyes. "That's not logical thinking," she whispered, shaking her head with a sigh, "what...what happens you finally grow tired of me, and I'm just another one to slap onto the track record?"

He snorted as a first response. "You have an apartment now. You'll find one then. I told you to move in, not to marry me. It's just sharing living arrangements. Consider it..." he smirked deeply as his tone became predatory, "asset consolidation."

She peered through the cracks of her fingers, still sulking. "You don't understand!" she responded exasperatedly, leaning back in her chair as she dragged her hands down her cheeks. What was she supposed to tell him? That: "Oh, hey Vegeta, yeah, by the way, I'm Bulma Brief. You're number one rival!"?

She met his dark stare, and it penetrated right through her.

 _Damn him,_ she cursed, melting under his gaze. The corners of her eyes softened, but she gritted her teeth. The more she resisted, the more it added to his persistence.

"Should I send a moving company?"

Bulma scoffed, crossing her arms stubbornly beneath her bust. His shirt slid down her arm, exposing a creamy shoulder. She narrowed her eyes into icy slits as she snapped, "I didn't say I'm moving in, Vegeta! I told you, it's not a good idea!"

Vegeta shrugged at her words and reached for her exposed skin. He caressed it tenderly, the edges of his mouth curling upward as she began to relax. "Cyan...have you ever done something completely unexpected, something foolhardy on a whim?"

 _Yes..._ she internally screamed. L _eaving home. Moving to East City. Working for you. Falling for you..._

She leaned into his touch with a moan. "No."

"Well, here's your chance." He paused then sighed. "Fine. Keep your apartment. Just collect what you need to move in and leave the rest in case we change our minds. I'm not seeing a problem."

"Just…" Bulma sighed as she pressed a kiss against his fingers, relishing his hand upon her skin. Her flesh tingled with electricity, flaring with warmth. Smiling softly, she grasped his hand with hers. "Fourth and Clear Springs, apartment ten," she murmured, lacing her fingers with his, "send the movers there."

Half of Vegeta's mouth twisted upward as he accepted his victory. "Call them as soon as you need them. Put their fee on my account." His fingers slowly stroked her flesh. "Now, let's eat."

The aqua haired beauty nodded with defeat, removing her hand from his. As she picked up her silver fork, she did not miss the red hue that tainted her fingers. Frowning hard, she snatched his hand again and cradled it within both of hers. "You're bleeding," she quietly noted, her fingers centimeters away from the broken flesh of his knuckles. She dragged her gaze toward his. "What'd you do?"

"The shower opened it," he casually dismissed her concern, pulling his hand away from her touch.

With a huff, she picked up her utensil once more, before she began to silently eat. Music continued to ring softly in the background, and she hummed along with it as she swallowed her food.

Vegeta silently finished his meal then looked at the clock. "I need head down to the office." He stood and pushed his chair under the table. "Breakfast was...edible," he complimented as he headed toward the bedroom.

Bulma beamed with pride in her newfound ability of cooking. "Hey, at least it was edible!" she tilted her head to the side thoughtfully, grinning at his boxer-clad figure. "Are you going to get dressed, Mr. Ouji? I'd be awfully jealous of the women at work who'd see you on your way in."

"That's where I'm heading, woman!" he growled as he turned for the bedroom. "Dinner. Tonight. We're celebrating," he informed as he vanished from her sight.

Bulma giggled against the rim of her pulpy orange juice, "You wanna go back to Banners?"

She heard him growl and could not stop herself from choking on her drink before throwing her head back and laughing.

Oh, how she loved to dig under his skin! With a fleeting smile, she thought, _Tonight will be good._

* * *

A white, cotton scarf was loosely strapped around her neck, and her hair hung in waves that framed her face. Square-cut sunglasses rested atop her oceanic locks as she chewed on the tip of her plastic straw, raising expectant brows toward the couple across from her.

The unruly-haired man bounced up and down within his seat like a child, a grin plastered across his face. On the other hand, the woman beside him twiddled her thumbs nervously, offering Bulma a weak smile.

"Alright, Goku and Chi-Chi," Bulma sighed exasperatedly, removing the straw from her lips. "We have been sitting here in silence for about...five minutes. What did you guys want to tell me? I'm super busy today."

"Why are ya super busy?" Goku tilted his head, confused. His eyes sparkled with innocence.

"How about this," the heiress grinned, leaning in toward the couple, whispering, "tell me what you wanted to. Then, I'll tell you what I know."

Goku opened his mouth widely, but before he could speak, Chi-Chi slapped his strong forearm, glaring. Turning her gaze toward her best friend, Chi-Chi uttered, "You're not upset with me still, are you?"

"Does he know?"

Bulma observed her friend skeptically as Chi-Chi shook her head with her lips pressed together. Bulma remained silent for a few moments before nodding, "Then no, I'm not. You're really a good friend, Chi."

"Alright, well, erm…" the Ox Princess shook nervously, stammering with a blush as she wrung her hands together. She glanced at Goku shyly before murmuring, "Goku, can you tell her?"

Goku's face immediately brightened, and he clenched his fists together excitedly as he exclaimed loudly, "WE ARE ENGAGED!"

Bulma blinked once. And then twice. Her jaw slacked as she rasped, "Wait-what?"

"We are engaged," the couple answered back simultaneously.

The scientist rose a single, sculpted brow. "Isn't this a little...fast?"

"Nope!" Goku replied affirmatively, making the 'p' pop within the word. "She's all that I want, Bulma. A-and I can't explain why or how," he mumbled, scratching the nape of his neck with a blush, "I-I just know."

Bulma caught the loving, tender and sincere gaze he offered Chi-Chi, and the heiress's heart warmed at the sight. A small smile curved her lips as she bit her tongue, preventing herself from ruining the moment. If her best friend was happy with a sudden engagement, then there was nothing to do but support her. "Congrats," Bulma nodded, averting her gaze from the couple back toward her drink.

Chi-Chi looked away from Goku with a large smile. However, a frown tugged her lips at the sight of her simpering friend. Her heart paused a beat before dropping toward her stomach as she sighed. Bulma doesn't approve, but she's supporting me anyways...Shaking her head and emptying the negative thought, she questioned, "What did you want to tell us?"

"Me? Oh...it, it doesn't matter."

"Oh, c'mon Cyan!" Goku whined, pouting. "I told you, so you gotta tell me!"

"Fine," Bulma muttered, stirring her drink with a fat, red straw. "I'm moving in with Vegeta."

A tense, heavy silence settled upon the trio for a long time. Tension crackled between them, popping around them in an electric aura before finally, Goku emitted a low whistle.

"Wow."

"What?" Bulma snapped defensively, crossing her arms over her chest, glaring at Goku. "You can ask my best friend to marry you after two weeks of knowing each other, but I can't move in with Vegeta?"

"B," Chi-Chi sighed, running a hand through her hair as she frowned at Bulma's sudden distress. "You know that's not what he meant."

"Yeah, Blue," Goku chipped in, shaking his head, "I just...wow. I dunno, it's just odd for Vegeta to do that!"

Bulma snorted, but did not disagree with the statement.

"And…" Chi-Chi began, chewing the inside of her cheek. "It's...just different."

"Different?" Bulma uttered, drawing her brows together angrily. "What do you mean by that?"

"I just mean...it's a different situation than us! It's nothing I would expect you to do impulsively, you know?"

"Oh? And marrying a complete stranger is any different?" the blue-haired beauty gritted her teeth together in annoyance before biting out, "I have to go."

"B, wait!" Chi-Chi exclaimed as Bulma gathered her things and slid out of the booth. "You know that's not what I meant!"

"You know, I guess you don't mean a lot of things, Chi-Chi," Bulma snapped, her nostrils flaring as tears stung her eyes. "I just...just leave me alone for awhile, okay? Both of you."

Before Chi-Chi could call out in attempts to reconcile with the heiress, Bulma had hurriedly fled from the cafe with no other thoughts besides returning to her new home.

* * *

 _OOOOOH, drama. ;)_

 _I am SO SORRY that I have not updated in ages! I lost my computer charger, moved, travelled, etc...but, I promise that I'll be posting once a week, again. Besides-we're almost done, sorta._

That's okay, too, because there's a sequel. ;)

I'm on tumblr, now, guys! I have the link in my bio, so check me out.

 _Thanks for your understanding, and I hope to see a review or two!_

 _Ciao~_

 _DoV_


	12. Chapter 12

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing of Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z, or GT. I'm just a happy little camper (student) who writes in her free time, and hangs out with her dogs. Additionally, the cover photo is a photo I found from surfing on the internet and belongs to the rightful owner (whoever it may be)._**

 _ **Can you blame me? It was a sexy picture of Vegeta.**_

 ** _Beta: Myself._**

 ** _Posted: 9-12-16_**

* * *

 _Couldn't Stop Caring_

* * *

A stream of sunlight peered past the fluttering curtains, bathing the bedroom in a soft, orange smolder. Two figures laid intertwined in a mess of sheets, one slept peacefully and the other observed his lover.

Vegeta softly sighed, tracing his woman's jawline. Her lips were parted, and the freckles on her cheeks were illuminated by dawn's friendly glow. He nuzzled his nose into her floral scented hair, inhaling deeply with a small smile.

God, what were these feelings that she aroused within him? It was something more than lust, something more than desire…

He dragged his lips across her slick forehead, humming with content.

Bulma's eyelids fluttered open as she felt a finger run down the length of her nose. She giggled, offering her lover a drowsy smile before snuggling into her pillow. "Good morning," she mumbled, relishing his light touch. She quirked a curious brow with a hum, "Whattya doin' up so early, hm?"

"Hn. Work is in a few hours, and I could not sleep. I have lots on my mind," Vegeta admitted, propping himself upon his elbow. He cupped her cheek, rubbing his thumb along her cheekbone before leaning down, capturing Bulma's lips into a tender kiss.

"Mm," Bulma closed her eyes, curling her fingers against Vegeta's chest. As she was lost in the moment, a sharp pain jabbed her stomach before it gurgled in protest. She pushed Vegeta away, pressing her lips together with a slight burp. She moaned slightly, curling up into a ball on her side.

"Cyan?" Vegeta addressed with concern, his eyebrows knitting together. What was wrong with her? He wrapped an arm around Bulma and tugged her toward his chest, running a hand down the length of her back. "Are you ill?"

"I dunno," she mumbled, relaxing into his embrace. She wasn't ill, right? It was just morning hunger pains. She placed a feather-like kiss against his chest, replacing her frown with a playful grin. "I'm just sleepy. You make me tired, Mr. Ouji."

Vegeta smirked, virility washing over him as he met the woman's gaze. "But, of course. Did you expect anything less?" He chuckled as he rolled her onto her backside, resting his hands on either side of her head. He claimed her lips in a hungry kiss, flexing his hips as he did. "I can make you feel better," he stated once he pulled away.

"Oh?" Bulma lifted hand to caress his cheek as she tittered, "Did the doctor prescribe it?"

"Woman," his smirk grew wider as he nipped the creamy flesh of her neck, teasingly. "I am the doctor."

"Ohoho, cocky, are we?" Bulma challenged as he used a hand to cup her breast. She bit back a moan, arching her back to feel his body against hers, and he tutted, pulling away from her. She pouted and blew at her bangs with frustration. "Fine," she relented, wrapping her legs around his lower body and locking her ankles. "I'll only give in, Doctor Ouji, on one condition…"

"Hm?" Vegeta half-listened, curious as to the woman's offer yet distracted by her perfectly pillowed out breasts. He took her nipple into his mouth, biting it teasingly before lapping at it with his tongue. He snickered against her flesh as he felt her shiver.

"I'll prescribe the medication for your morning wood," she squirmed beneath him, and the sheets rustled against their skin as she continued, "only if you make love to me."

Vegeta paused his ministrations, removing his mouth from her teat. Love? His eyes narrowed at the word, and he shifted his weight onto each of his hands with discomfort. Had he ever had a woman request for him to make love? No. She was the first to ever receive such treatment-such a privilege. Yet, she had never outright asked for him to...to…

"I am the one who prescribes the medication, silly female," he growled against her neck in order to hide his confusion and he ground his hips against hers.

Bulma groaned as pressure built between her already slick thighs, but she refused to give up. She would have another moment of loving bliss with her man, damnit! She grabbed his face between her hands, forcing him to look upon her as she dragged her lips against his. "Please, baby," she whispered breathlessly with a whimper, "I want to make love…"

Vegeta frowned at her plea. Why did she want to engage in a lovemaking session? He could pleasure her in so many other forms. "Why do you keep persisting?"

"It feels good," Bulma cooed, drawing circles with her fingertips against his shoulder blades. She silenced Vegeta with a sweltering kiss once he snorted, about to object to her foolish reasoning. She peered at him through her long lashes once they separated, and she began to beg. "You're careful and your touch is gentle," her fingernails dug into the skin of his back as she fought her body's urge to tremble under the weight of her words. "I feel loved and cherished, and I want you to feel that way, too."

Vegeta reared his head back, staring at the beautiful woman beneath him with wide eyes. She wanted him to feel loved? Was she implying that…? Did she feel the same emotions that he did? Had she deciphered the feelings that he could not? Did she know the what the feelings beside undeniable attraction between them were?

He brought his gaze down to her lips, before cupping her chin and dragging his thumb across the swollen cushions. Dragging his gaze back toward hers, he softly murmured, "What are you implying, Cyan?"

"I think…" Bulma paused, hesitant to answer his question. She certainly could no longer deny the feelings that she had formed for her boss, her rival. However, was she truly ready to admit them fully and expose herself to her lover? She did not think so, but she had to offer an explanation for her silliness and peculiar request. Biting her lower lip, she admitted quietly, "I think I'm falling for you, Vegeta."

Vegeta blinked, unable to comprehend the words she offered. Falling for him? Did she truly mean that she was falling in love with him? How could anyone love him? Yet, as he looked down at the perfect woman, who stared at him expectantly with shining eyes, his heart swelled. He did not know how-especially after the way he had treated so many women before her-but Cyan loved him.

His Cyan loved him.

"Falling for me?" He whispered, hoarsely, swallowing the lump forming within his throat. He leaned down to her ear, capturing her lobe between his teeth and nibbling, softly. "You should guard yourself and your heart, woman. It is the only way to keep you safe."

Bulma released a breathy moan before crushing herself against him. "But you'll protect me, Vegeta," she said in a quiet murmur, certain. She pulled away from him before nuzzling her face into the hollow of his throat, and kissing his neck. "You'll always protect me and my heart...right?"

"Always," he answered without hesitation, grazing her left side with his hand. Vegeta released a chuff, signaling that he was ready to continue and follow through with her request. He captured her lips, groaning against them as she grabbed his hand with hers, interlacing their fingers. He pulled away, affirming with a whisper, "Forever."

Bulma accepted his silent admittance of his love for her with a bright smile. She wanted to do nothing more than to squeal with happiness, or to force everything away from their minds and contribute their entire beings to their lovemaking.

They did both.

* * *

A tall, regal man fisted the white collared shirt of a young male, bringing his nose to connect with his own. Gray hairs glistened in his hair, a snarl escaping his throat, "Where is your shit-head brother?"

Tarble clutched the man's wrist, his eyes wide with fear. Only the tips of the younger man's shoes touched the floor as he was held face level with his sire. "F-Father, I-I don't know!"

"Don't 'Father' me, boy," the flame-haired man snapped, shaking his son as his free hand curled into a fist. "He's with that stupid bitch, isn't he?!"

"I don't know!" Tarble cried as he struggled within his sire's grasp. "I'm not his keeper!" Senior readjusted his grip, crushing his son's windpipe. The smaller of the two choked for air, clawing at the heavier man's forearms, his face flushing due to the lack of oxygen.

"You're useless!"

Crimson liquid trickled from Tarble's nose, trailing down to his upper lip. His breathing came in uneven, ragged breaths as he sucked in small amounts of air. He cringed at the sight of his father drawing back his fist, closing his eyes before it connected with his cheek.

The contact never came.

Instead, the spiky-haired male staggered backward, holding his red neck as he wheezed. His eyes were blurred, but he heard a snarl emit from the man who always came to his rescue: his brother.

As always, Vegeta had come to save the day, and relief immediately washed over him. If there was anyone he knew he could rely on, it was his brother. His older sibling had been protecting him since he was a baby, and because of that, there was a deep trust embedded between them that fueled Vegeta to protect him.

"If he's so useless," Vegeta spat, pushing his father away threateningly, "then don't fucking touch him."

Senior snarled back with the same amount of ferocity, sneering at his eldest. "You should be here instead of fucking that whore."

All the veins throughout Vegeta's body bubbled with fury, and his pupils dilated. His nostrils flared as he glared at his father through a red-eyed visage. "What I do with my time is none of your business," Vegeta hissed through the gaps of his teeth, spittle flying from his lips. "As for discussing business, you will wait for me, and not beat the shit out of your flesh and blood."

"I will do as I please, boy!" the elder Vegeta bellowed, striking the side of his son's cheek with a violent slap. "And you will fucking mind me - your father!"

Vegeta chuckled darkly, wiping the streak of blood trailing from the edge of his lip with the back of his hand. He grabbed a handful of his sire's shirt with his hand, twisting his red tie between his fingers. He brought his nose to his Senior's with a growl, "You lost that privilege and title years ago. Now, get in my fucking office," he snapped, pushing the man away in disgust. "I will meet you there when I damn well feel like it."

Releasing a chuff, Senior straightened out his shirt with a sneer before storming out of the room.

Vegeta turned toward his younger brother who clutched his desk, breathing hard. Tarble glanced at him, nodding to the door. "Go."

"Brat…" Vegeta rumbled, stretching a hand toward his brother.

Tarble looked away, ashamed as he snapped, "I said go."

Without another word or another glance, Vegeta sighed before trailing after his father.

* * *

Papers rustled within Vegeta's smooth hands, and he slammed the pile of work atop his desk. He pressed his fists against the workplace while leaning over the mahogany finery, glaring at the wood. He dragged his eyes to meet malice filled ebony ones, and his jaw muscle flexed angrily.

"First, you stick the paparazzi wolves upon me and my secretary, and a few days later, you beat down on your son," he growled, his eyes narrowing into icy slits. "Since when did you think you can waltz in here and parade around like you own the whole fucking plac-"

"I do own the place, boy," Senior snarled, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the sofa within the center of the room. "It would be in your interest to remember that."

The younger flame-haired man's brow twitched with annoyance as a throbbing vein appeared upon his temple. "What the do you want, old man?"

"Not what I want," the man corrected, unfolding his arms and gripping the edge of the couch. "What this company needs."

"What the hell are you on about?" Vegeta grounded out through clenched teeth, his fingers itching to wipe the smirk off of his father's face. His eyes burned holes through his father's intimidating gaze as he barked, "Well? Get on with it!"

Senior's smirk curled back widely, digging into his slightly wrinkled cheeks. "Why, the amalgamation of Capsule Corporation with Ouji Enterprises - in other words, the complete takeover of an empire to add to our own."

* * *

A blue haired woman hummed happily as she swayed her grey-slacked hips to and fro to the jazzy elevator music. Within each hand, she held two coffees while her briefcase dangled around her wrist.

"I better not drip this freaking coffee all over this white shirt," she muttered, glancing down at her snow-colored halter. Shaking her head, she sped down the hall. Her ponytail swished behind her as the sunlight seeped in from triangular glass ceiling above, giving her neck a burning sensation.

Humming quietly to herself, she arrived before a dark, cedar door. Sighing, she reached for the door handle, but paused as she heard another man's voice.

"I do own the place, boy. It would be in your interest to remember that."

Bulma gasped slightly, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion. What was Senior doing here?

"...the amalgamation of Capsule Corporation with Ouji Enterprises - in other words, the complete takeover of an empire to add to our own."

Bulma staggered away from the door in surprise, her breath hitching within her throat. One coffee slipped from her hand and she fumbled for the cup, catching with a firm grip, shocked. She choked, gasping for air in surprise as she stared at the door incredulously.

"What?" she breathed, inching toward the door cautiously before pressing her ear against the cool surface.

 _Oh my God...Vegeta, what are you doing? You can't be agreeing to this,_ she thought, her throat tightening as tears blurred her vision. _You just can't be! You're so much better than that..._

* * *

Vegeta scoffed with repulsion as he shook his head, plopping down in his tan leather chair. What was his father thinking? They had no need to steal the reigns from the Brief family. Why would he bother? "This conversation is a waste of my time, old man. Go blow your hot air elsewhere," he snapped as he ripped a drawer open, grabbing a ball point pen before adding, "I have more important things to finish."

"This is important," Senior insisted gruffly as he strode over toward Vegeta. He stopped abruptly before him, snatching the pen from his son's left hand and slamming it upon the desk. "You better listen well, brat, because I will not tell you twice."

Juniour growled, his eyes narrowing as he bore his pearly whites, his canines poking his lips. "You will not have to tell me once - get out."

"Listen to me," Senior seethed through clenched teeth as he gripped his son's cheeks within one hand, forcing his child to look at him. "The networth of Capsule Corporation is double ours, and we need that stock added to our own so that we are the elite of all conglomerates. The heiress is out of the way, now is the perfect opportunity to seize the company before she returns. With no heir present, Trunks Brief will fall. "

Vegeta ripped his chin away from his father's grasp, glowering. A pregnant pause fell before them, and he frowned as he glanced at the papers strewn across his desk. Finally, Vegeta raised his eyes to his father's, nostrils flaring as he questioned an answer he already knew, "You were the one who sent the rumoured murder threats to the heiress, were you not?" he rose from his seat angrily as he pointed an accusing finger toward his father, "You are the one who has been attacking the company within the shadows, and you do not bother informing the President for the sake of this company?!"

How could his father declare the beginnings of war against another company without informing him?! Didn't he realize the lethal damage that could have happened - the things that could have tarnished the family name?! He was truly a despicable and dishonorable man!

"Yes!" Senior hissed back, his face wrinkling with anger as he continued in a low, cruel voice, "I did it because I knew you would not take the initiative to do so, like the naive boy you are. You are so arrogant, and with that new pet of yours, you are too blind and distracted to take control of every rivaling business around you - including that damned Corporation! This is what is best and most advantageous for this company, and you will do as I say!"

A sneer curled over the heir's teeth, glinting in the sunlight. "Pray tell, why would I do that?"

"Because, boy," the sire snarled, slamming his hands on Vegeta's desk. "I will slander your name for all the public to see and hear, and then your brother will receive your birthright."

"Blackmailing me, are you, father?"

"If it is needed for you to regain your ambition and aggression, then yes," Senior snapped, pushing away from the desk and pivoting on his foot. "Imagine how the company would prosper from this, Vegeta."

His eyelids slid shut as his fingers curled into fists. The company? It certainly would prosper - it was as if Capsule Corporation would be the final building block for lifelong success. More money would pool in, their company would expand nation-wide, and only improvements would be made to Ouji Enterprises. Sighing, Vegeta grit out through clenched teeth, "Fine."

Senior chuckled, smirking victoriously as he called over his shoulder, "Watch where you step, brat, this topic is no longer debatable - you will see this buyout through."

* * *

She trembled with every word, her lips parting as she shut her eyes tightly. "No," she whispered, shaking her head as she felt her knees grow weak. "No, no, no…"

Her ears twitched at the sound of shoes pounding closer to the doorway, and she released a small gasp, pulling away from the door. She backtracked slightly, reopening her eyes and quickly wiping them before the door swung open.

"Late, Ms. Noall?"

She forcefully willed her feet to move forward as she glared at the man that emerged from the office. "No, on time, actually," she replied scornfully, drawing her lip into a sneer. Inwardly, she quivered under the man's imploring gaze, yet she maintained a strong, stoic expression.

Oh God, he knew she was eavesdropping.

Play it cool, she thought to herself, inhaling deeply before forcing a smile onto her face.

"Watch yourself, Brief."

Bulma rolled her eyes, growling as she brushed past him, "Don't you have somewhere else to lurk, Pookie Bear?"

Before she could listen to his snide reply, she slammed the office door shut with a sour expression. Striding over to Vegeta's desk, she rested the paper cup of Kami's perfect creation and gave him a tight-lipped smile, "Morning."

Vegeta's eyes skimmed over the coffee before arriving at her uncomfortable stare. He nodded in appreciation before gruffly instructing, "Ignore the bastard."

Bulma gave a curt nod, clutching her lower abdomen with a sigh as she stared sadly at Vegeta's desk. It's not as if he knows who I am…she whispered internally, drawing her brows together as thoughts of him stealing Capsule Corp from her flooded her mind. But, how come I can't help feeling as if he has betrayed me? Her stomach churned at the mere idea of losing her future business, and her innards twisted and quivered with an icy hot rage.

Her forehead began to perspire, and she shook violently with anger. A searing, burning sensation built up behind her ribcage, spreading to her heart. She inhaled sharply, and gripped Vegeta's desk for support, and she shook her head violently before croaking, "What do you need me to do?"

At the sound of her weak voice, Vegeta glanced up from his paperwork with a frown. His dark brows drew together in concern as his eyes narrowed. "Woman, are you ill?"

The heiress blinked, attempting to remove the blurriness from her vision. "I…" she sighed, profusely batting her long lashes to rid the water from her sight. "I dunno…" she finished with a mumble, clutching her stomach tightly. Her cheeks flushed a bright pink as her face strained with evident pain.

"Cyan," Vegeta repeated, standing from his chair as he walked around his desk. The small woman glanced up at him in recognition of her name, but gave no further response. He pressed a warm palm against her forehead, his frown turning into a scowl. "You're burning up. I require that you return to the apartment and rest."

"Vegeta…"

"Woman," he growled, as he bent to her eye level, glaring. "Go home."

Bulma swayed, gripping his forearm for balance as she whispered, "Yeah, okay." She pressed her sweating face into his chest, sighing. The blue-eyed beauty felt his lips press gently against the crown of her head, and she pushed away weakly, repeating, "Okay."

"I will be there in a few hours."

With a swift nod, Bulma padded to the door lightly, craning her neck in his direction once more. She offered him a feeble smile before she slipped past the door, and closed it with a _'click.'_

* * *

Bulma had barely exited the elevator before she barreled to the first floor lavatory, a hand clamped over her mouth. She slid inside the tiled room, busting the nearest stall door open and falling to her knees. Clutching the porcelain seat, she leaked all the contents of her stomach into the toilet bowl, mixing with the cool water inside.

Pausing for a brief moment, she gasped for air before bending over once more, green slime gushing from her lips. Tears brimmed her lower lids at the burning sensation in her esophagus and the foul residue left upon her tastebuds.

One forearm was crossed over the seat, and she rested her forehead above it, breathing rapidly. Her nerves were jittered as she stared within the bowl in repulse, "Disgusting," she muttered, pushing away from the toilet with a wrinkled nose. She groaned as she stood slowly, reaching over for the silver handle and flushing the contents to the sewers.

Using the back of her hand, Bulma wiped the edges of her mouth before pulling her hand away and staring at the remnants with a scowl. "The flu? Eugh…" she moaned, pushing out of the black stall and walking toward the sink. _That's weird, though,_ she thought, her eyes narrowing suspiciously as she turned on the faucet. _I haven't had any other symptoms of being ill till a few moments ago._

She cupped her hand and placed a two pumps of soap within her palms before rubbing her hands together at a furious pace. Placing them underneath warm water, she glanced in the mirror that stretched all the way to the opposite wall. She sighed at her ragged appearance, her lips forming into a pout.

Bulma stared at the reflections within the mirror, her eyes skimming the paintings and backsplash. Along with them, the black stalls stood vacant, a long table strewn along the back wall to rest items such as purses and briefcases. Hanging above the long table were plants and...and a tampon dispenser.

The water automatically shut off, and Bulma's eyes remained glued to the reflection of the quarter insert, tampon dispenser. Her heart paused a beat, and for a split second, she forgot how to breath.

"Holy shit…I-I can't be..."

The heiress was always typically and characteristically late for many things. She ran a daily routine of running late to work, and she was always late for appointments. Usually, she was always late for meetings and hook-ups with friends, and right now? She was late for deadlines, and she was late for special events.

And, now that she thought about it, she was late for another thing:

Her menstrual cycle.

She was late.

Two weeks late.

Ripping her gaze from the mirror, Bulma glanced down at her belly with wide, terrified eyes. "No," she shook her head in denial, "I can't be...I can't be!" Flicking her hands above the sink to remove droplets of water, she pumped the handle of the paper towel dispenser before swiping the brown paper. Quickly drying her hands, she inhaled deeply in order to calm her nerves.

However, they would not be calm until she was certain - the scientist within her told her that much.

"Store…" she whispered, shaking her head, repeating,"Store, store, store…"

Tossing the crumpled ball of paper toward the waste basket and missing, Bulma clutched her briefcase and exited the bathroom. She began to rush toward the revolving glass doors of the building, but as she did, she unwittingly rammed into a tall, lean man.

The nasally voice huffed, "Watch where you're going!"

"Look, I'm sorry, pal, but…-" she snapped in apology, bringing her gaze from the man's chest to his face, preparing to continue her onslaught. However, the recognizable face prevented her from doing so, and she gasped in horror, "Seventeen?"

The black-haired male's eyes pierced through her and he cocked his head to the side, smirking. "Well, I'll be damned," he chuckled, his orbs sparkling with amusement. "Ms. Brief. I have not seen you since my internship ended after that project with the new generation O, Dino-Capsules. Wouldn't expect to see you here, of all places."

The small woman's blood boiled at the thought, and her eyes narrowed into slits as memories of his internship flooded her mind. Oh, this little shit...she hissed, internally raging as her fingers tightened around the handle of her briefcase. He was so cocky and acted like he could run my fucking company...he was a stupid, mad-genius college student that did that internship with Capsule Corporation! Ugh, I hate his guts! His feelings are most likely mutual…

Offering him a tight smile, Bulma shrugged. "Well, ya know, companies work things out, right? What are you doing here?"

The ex-intern ignored her question and peered at her gold-plated name tag attached to her halter. "Cyan Noall?" he mused with raised brows, his gaze flickering back to hers. "Hiding something, are we, Ms. Brief?"

Gritting her teeth, and with nostrils flaring, Bulma shook her head in denial. "You are impossible as ever," she stated in a strained, chipper voice. "Well, I best be going - good luck on...whatever it is you are searching for."

Rolling his eyes as the heiress brushed past him, Seventeen readjusted his tie as he walked swiftly toward the coincidentally opened elevator. Stepping inside, he leaned against the rail after pressing the button to level forty-eight…

* * *

"You rang, Juniour?"

The sound of a scrawling pen paused briefly, before the writing utensil clacked against the desk. Leaning back within his seat, Vegeta glowered at the man who entered, turning his nose up at him.

"Ah, the silent type," the man with the shoulder-length hair grinned as he pulled out the chair tucked beneath the opposite side of the desk. As he sat, his icy orbs twinkled with amusement and mischief. He lounged back comfortably, throwing an arm over the backside of his chair while resting the other atop a cross-over leg. "What is it you need, Mr. Ouji?"

A growl slipped passed Vegeta's tawny-colored lips, as his eyebrows lowered over his dangerous eyes. "I should have dealt with you months ago," he mentioned calmly, resting his forearms across his desk and leaning forward. "Why did my father hire you, corporate spy?"

"Ah, so you found out your father's secret on your leisure time," Seventeen tutted, shaking his head slowly at Vegeta's unwelcoming demeanor. "Oh, c'mon, Mr. Ouji - nicknames are so informal and rude, the name's Seventeen." He released a chuckle as he shrugged, his smirk digging into his cheek as he confidently stated, "And I can...divulge you in the information you wish to know - at a price, of course."

Vegeta cocked his head to the side. His upper lip twitched in annoyance, but he released a dry chuckle nonetheless. "I am a man of business, Seventeen, and I can respect your desire for profit and benefit," he spoke coolly, his orbs swirling with mirth as his smirk curled back impossibly wide. "It is in your best interest, however, to tell me what I wish to know. I am a lethal man, Mr. Juu, and I can destroy you."

Eyebrows raising in interest at the intimidating threat, Seventeen's smirk did not fade. "Alright, gutsy, I approve," he chuckled, cracking his neck as he spoke. "Your father hired me to be his eyes and ears, I suppose you could say. Almost two years ago, I had an internship at Capsule Corporation and he wanted intel on the company. Obviously, there wasn't much to say considering that they were very secretive people - much like your company."

Vegeta snorted, massaging the bridge of his nose with the tip of his fingers. "I know that's not all of it, knowing my father," he growled, his gaze penetrating Seventeen's as he removed his hands from his nose. "What else is there?"

Seventeen cocked his head to the side, a mischievous grin upon his face.

Vegeta's blood boiled at the sight, and his left eye twitched in annoyance. He deplored the way the man looked at him, as if he knew something that he did not. A scowl carved his lips as the edges of his mouth turned downward. "Spit it out!"

The boy's mysterious behaviour irked Vegeta to no end! It was as if the younger male knew something that he didn't - that he still had several cards hidden within his deck, waiting for the right time to cast a full flush.

"Well, I was let go after my internship with Ms. Brief ended, and that was a year ago. She used to give me looks that you're shooting at me, right now," he mused, snickering as his eyes shone with hidden mirth. "Your father rehired me shortly after your company's annual Summer Gala when he caught sight of you and your secretary."

Vegeta's brows raised at that, and his interest with the newly-college graduate piqued. "My secretary?" he repeated monotonously, not giving anything away. "Pray tell, why would the bastard give a damn?"

"I believe it is because her striking resemblance to Bulma Brief."

A bark of laughter escaped Vegeta's thin lips as a wry smile replaced his scowl. "All based upon presumptions about resemblance?" he scoffed, swooping up several documents into a pile. "The old man truly has lost his mind."

The heir of Ouji Enterprises shoved the files into a labeled file folder, his chuckles slowly dying out. Raising his gaze back to Seventeen's face, he waved the boy away with a dismissal hand. "You're of no harm to me and are simply a lackey of my father's. You are dismissed."

"One moment, Mr. Ouji," Seventeen sighed dramatically, twisting in his seat to crack his back. "I have a question myself."

The man opposing him rose an inquisitive brow, a smirk implanted upon his chiseled face.

"Now, if I recall correctly," the black-haired man began, standing from his seat and shoving his hands within his linen pockets. "You are a notorious, affluent playboy amongst your secretaries, correct?"

Vegeta tilted his head, his smirk fading. "I do not see the point in responding to questions you know the answers to, Mr. Juu."

"Well, it's more for my amusement, Juniour," he chortled, pulling a small wallet photo from his pocket. He slid the photo toward Vegeta, the picture itself faced downward, not visible to the heir's eye. Pivoting on his heel, Seventeen whistled eerily as he sauntered his way to the exit, pausing at the door frame. "Your secretary's name is Cyan Noall, yes?"

Of course, he already knew the answer, and he received no reply.

Seventeen released a guttural chuckle. "It's funny, really. After working on a project with Ms. Brief for my whole Junior year of college...it really gives you quality time with a person - and it's especially hard to forget a face like hers," he stated, craning his neck to the side showing off the large, all-knowing grin plastered onto his face. "Coincidentally, I bumped into her downstairs. And what would you know? Her name tag read, 'Cyan Noall'. Catch you later, Mr. Ouji."

Vegeta watched as the man left without missing a beat; his hard stare remained on the empty, closed doorway for a long time.

 _Cyan Noall posing as Bulma Brief?...Or is it in this case, Bulma Brief posing as Cyan Noall? Tch, preposterous!_

Finally, his gaze flickered toward his desk, landing on the upside down picture. Slowly, he raised both hands to either edge of the thin, flimsy frame. Lifting the photograph, he gazed at the woman who smiled brightly as she stood next to Juu.

Those friendly, glittering eyes. The unmistakable, unusual hair. That victorious grin stretching across her lips, with a dimple in each cheek.

What shook him to the core the most was the unmistakeable logo of Capsule Corporation plastered in black print against her shirt, signifying that she was in fact not Cyan Noall, but Bulma Brief.

For a long, dragged out moment, he did absolutely nothing. He just stared, motionless.

And then, within a split second, the frame cracked under the pressure of his squeezing hands. Glass shattered and flew away from the panels and his shoulders shook violently. His nostrils flared outward with each, strained exhale as one of his eyes twitched uncontrollably.

 _"Traitorous bitch!"_

Veins bulged around his neck and his bare forearms as hot, white rage pumped through his veins. Standing from his desk with a roar of uncontrolled anger, he slammed the already broken frame to the floor, creating a loud crash.

The edges of his eyes were red with rage, and being blinded by his fury, his forearms swept all the contents upon his desk to the floor while he bellowed, _"CYAN!"_

Pens and a tax machine clattered to the floor with an angry boom! as papers flew around him in a frenzy, each important document fluttering to the floor silently. His coffee cup that she had given to him was spilt, liquid staining his desk some remaining papers black.

Breathing irregularly, his fingers twitched as they curled and unfurled into fists. Gritting his teeth, he ripped at the roots of his hair, snarling viciously at the broken frame at his feet. Heavy emotions swirled in the pits of his stomach: betrayal, umbrage, exasperation. He hated them all - all the emotions she made him feel.

Releasing another yell of frustration, Vegeta attempted to bound his temper as his wing-tipped shoes crushed glass beneath his feet before he stormed from the room.

Left behind in the messy office, lay a torn photograph - the only one he would ever have of her in later years.

* * *

Several empty water bottles laid strewn around the bathroom, and Bulma sat on the toilet seat, her trousers and panties rolled to her ankles. Her elbows rested against her knees as she stared at the small, white stick in disbelief.

Positive.

Her body felt numb as she sat motionlessly, just staring. That was all she could do - she did not know how to react.

"Not the plus sign or good mark I'm used to," she cracked the joke weakly, faintly smile before she released a choked sob. Fear grappled her, and for the first time in a very long time, she was truly scared.

How was she going to be a mother? She could not, could she? Did she have a choice? Yes - but she would never give up her flesh and blood. Pressure against her ribcage grew unbearable, and with one hand, she clutched the area above her heart with a whimper. How was she going to tell Vegeta?...Would she even tell him?

How would he react? What would he tell her? Abort it? Send it up for adoption? No, he would not do that. Would he? He would not want to give up his own child, would he?

Bulma's vision grew myopic, and her focus upon the green image was blurred by tears. The moment her urine had hit the stick, the test resulted positive. How could I allow for this to happen? she thought with a choked sob, covering her mouth with a petite hand.

She heard a distant slam of the entrance of the penthouse, her ear twitching at the noise. Her head snapped in the direction of the locked bathroom door, and she frowned.

"Shit…why is he home?" she muttered, sniffling loudly as she reached behind her, fumbling for the handle. Gripping it, she pulled it down and the toilet flushed beneath her as she stood, bent over. She pulled up her white panties and slacks, buttoning them.

Glancing down at the evidence in her hand, she tapped her foot impatiently before swearing loudly. Crouching down to the small trash bin, she dug to the bottom and threw the stick in the bottom before snatching the empty bottles around her and throwing them on top.

Sighing she walked to the sink and washed her hands before quickly drying them with a blue wash cloth hanging from a silver ring.

She wiped her eyes with the heels of her hands, releasing one final sniffle before glancing in the mirror. As if an innate, motherly instinct had already come over her, she placed a hand against her belly, whispering more to herself than the fetus growing inside her, "We can do this."

With the final release of nerves and a push of confidence, Bulma exited the bathroom, not knowing what mess she was about to slide across…

* * *

"Woman!" Vegeta bellowed into the condo.

The blue-haired woman sniffled loudly as she turned the corner and into the living area with a single hand above her tummy. The sight she was met with stopped her dead in her tracks like a deer in headlights as she was met with his flaming scrutiny. Her porcelain skin was being seared by the sun peering through the long wall made of solely glass.

"Feeling better Cyan? Or, would you prefer Bulma?" Vegeta sneered, his heart pounding within its confines. His hands shook with barely contained fury.

Blood rushed to her ears, and the world around her became still, silent. All that she could hear within her mind was the incessant hammering of her pulse rushing through her veins. Her throat dried at the use of her name, and her insides squirmed at the malice laced behind his words, and she breathed, "What?"

A sense of foreboding washed over her, crashing against her small frame. He knew.

He knew.

The sound of Vegeta's teeth grinding together filled the room. "Don't feign innocence with me!"

His feet carried him toward Bulma without his realization. His eyes blazed with a terrible fury, making him look even more like his father than ever before.

Bulma remained glued to one spot, inhaling sharply as he came within close proximity. He won't hurt me, her subconscious whispered, repeating the mantra within the back of her mind. She wrapped her arms protectively over her lower abdomen as she stared directly into his eyes, and she trembled as she felt his rage herself. "Vegeta…" she managed to croak, staring desperately into his dark gaze, "please."

"Answer me!" he expelled his rage in her face in both words and spittle, which landed on her face. "You're Bulma Brief!" His trembling hands clutched biceps, forcefully shaking her as if he could shake the truth from her and vanquish it.

A shriek flew past her lips as he gripped her tightly, causing her muscles to ache under the pressure his hands were exerting. She trembled, overwhelmed by the rage that he was radiating. "Yes!" she choked out as she winced under his firm grasp. Hot, salty water brimmed her lower eyelids as her nostrils flared, "Vegeta? Vegeta! I-I'm sorry," she sobbed, repeating, "I'm sorry."

Junior's teeth clenched so tightly, one molar gave beneath the pressure. His hands suddenly released her, shoving her so she stumbled backward, coming to lean on the wall. He spat the tooth fragment onto the rug and stormed away from her.

"You're sorry," he softly mocked, his voice barely carrying back to her.

Vegeta suddenly took a crystal lamp in his hand. "You're sorry?!" He gave a feral scream of anger and the the lamp to the floor, shattering it into billions of slivers that covered the floor, reflecting the light.

He rounded on the sobbing woman. "You're...sorry?! You. Are...sorry?!" A hand ran through his hair as he walked toward her.

"Sorry doesn't cut it!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, visibly shaking. His face was dangerously red with the veins in his neck and forehead throbbing with each heartbeat.

A wide trail of tears stained her cheeks as her feet instinctively moved herself back from the potential threat to her child, her baby. "Stop it!" she yelled, holding her hands up in defense. Small fragments of glass from the lamp had scattered to her end of the room. Shards dug into her almost bare feet, causing them to leak trickles of crimson.

"Stop it?" Vegeta cocked his head to the side before giving a bark of laughter. "You..." He lifted a shaking finger to point at her. "After what you've done, you tell me to stop? Oh, you are audacious, woman."

"What the hell do you want me to say?!" she exclaimed boldly, throwing her hands in the air helplessly. "That I'm sorry? I didn't mean for any of this to happen? I didn't mean to run away from home, and then look for a job?" she shrugged, releasing a short, weak laugh. "That I'm sorry I ended up at your company, knowing that I could easily get a job?"

Bulma spread her arms wide, shaking her head hopelessly. She offered a strained, ingenuine smile before she resumed her onslaught, her voice rising. "Or maybe that I'm sorry Raditz pushed me to become your secretary? Or, how about I'm sorry that I'm your rival, but accidentally came to share a bed with you? I'm sorry that I fell in love with you?!"

Her chest drew in deep, haggard breaths as she casted her gaze away from him shamefully as she became absolutely silent. She stared up at the ceiling, wanting her tears to return to their homely ducts. Sniffling loudly, she wiped her swollen eyes with both hands as she hoarsely repeated her question, "What do you want me to say?"

Vegeta eyed her in disgust. "You lied to me. You seduced me. And now...you tell me you love me?" He shook his head and snorted in contempt. "That's just perfect." His chest visibly expanded then contracted. "When will you stop lying to me? I'm not a fool."

"You are the fool!" Suddenly, a swell of confidence filled her, and she marched toward him, stopping inches away from him. Her eyes narrowed into dangerous, icy slits as she whispered roughly, "I lied to you about my name, yes. But, what could you have offered me that I already didn't have, Vegeta? A title? Endless amounts of money in a bank account? Fame? Recognition?"

She slapped her hands against his upper chest. "I have all that - every single thing. I wanted nothing that you had, because I had everything you have," she seethed, more tears threatening to fall from her eyes, "so why the hell would you think I'm lying? Vegeta, all that I wanted was you. You offered me you, and that's what I wanted. I just wanted you."

"You came here to use me to get to my company," Vegeta responded, unconvinced. "You targeted me so you could spy on Ouji Enterprises and use that information to give Capsule Corps an advantage. Don't you Briefs have enough of the market share?!"

"Are you kidding me?!" she shrieked clearly affronted, causing her to push him back with brute strength she did not know she possessed. "Your father is the one who threatened to murder my family by sending my father an anonymous message telling him that if I was not out of the picture soon, blood would be spilled. Or, what was I walked in on this morning misheard? Did I not hear your father tell you that he wanted you to destroy my company?! My birthright, Vegeta?!"

"So, instead of taking it up with him, you targeted me?!" His finger poked her chest, pushing her back. "You figured I was weaker than him, foolish enough for you to get your revenge. Because of my father, you set out to destroy me."

"Oh my God...are you even listening to yourself?! I didn't know who put the target on my back until this morning!" she exclaimed, as fury ran hot and wild through her thin veins. Breathing heavily, she felt a small knot of craps forming within her stomach, and she inhaled and exhaled deeply.

She had to calm down - for the baby's sake. Staring down at the finger poking her sternum, she grabbed his hand with gentle care. Her glossy eyes met his red-edged ones, "Vegeta, please listen to me," she whispered, cautiously raising her other hand to his cheek. "Please? I love you, I do. I love you, Vegeta."

Vegeta stared at her, disbelieving. "You...love me?" he swallowed the pain in his chest and shook his head. "How can you say that to me? Why now?"

"Because…" she croaked, her windpipe tightening as she took both of his cheeks within her small hands. Swallowing the dry lump lodged behind her uvula, she whispered breathlessly against his lips, "Because I can't imagine you not being around me, even if you never love me." Her heart constricted violently behind her ribcage as she began to choke on the words tumbling from her mouth, "I...you're a part of me now, whether you like it or not."

 _If you only knew how much truth I am speaking…_

Vegeta's face twitched. How could he believe her? He wanted to-but he couldn't. What was the truth? Did she love him? No, no she couldn't. She wouldn't have done this. He quickly returned to the familiar and safe embrace of anger. "If only I could believe you. There's nothing you won't do to manipulate me is there?"

Bulma jolted away from him in shock, and he removed her hands from his face. She stared into his eyes; vacant, mirthful, brooding. She felt as if a knife was lodged within her heart, and he was painfully twisting it, side to side. She felt...desperate and hopeless. "No…"

"That's right, 'No.' No more...Bulma. No more lies. No more manipulation. No more...us," he answered. "I want you out. Now!"

Spittle flew onto her slightly freckled cheeks, and she stared at him wide-eyed. "Vegeta, you can't be serious? You're just going to toss me out, and pretend nothing happened?"

"I thought this was why you kept your precious apartment," Vegeta returned. "You've got plenty of cash, remember? There's nothing I can offer you."

Rage.

It rolled off of her in hot, steamy waves as she jerked away from his hold, her gaze level with his. His heartless stare penetrated through her quivering, blue orbs. The heartache she once felt dissipated after he spewed his cold, hateful words. Instead, the ache she felt was replaced by a new, stronger, more lethal ache: anger.

She could not stop the laughter that bubbled from her throat. Why the laughter? Why not? It was not as if he had a heart to take offense from her laughter, anyways. "You're right," she shrugged carelessly, her laughter growing louder, "you don't have anything offer me because you're heartless, just like your father.

"We…" she paused, "I, will never forgive you for what you have said, for what you have done to me today. And God forbid if you ever show up at my doorstep by some means, you will not be welcomed."

Pressing her lips into a thin white line wordlessly, she brushed past him and strutted toward the couch. She quickly swiped her dumped briefcase from the cushions and ripped it open. "You see these?" she laughed with a wry smile, pulling a folder from the case and dropping it to the floor. Papers scattered across the wooden floors as she dug her hand in the briefcase several more times, throwing stacks of paperwork in his direction. "You can have them!"

Finally, she grabbed the computer within the leather-bound bag, and dropped it to the floor carelessly, her heart fluttering as it crashed loudly.

"Have fun fucking a new secretary, and congratulations, Mr. Ouji," she stated with a tight-lipped smile, her muscles straining to even lift for the fake grin. "I quit."

She could not look at him - she could not bear to without the urge to rip off his face. And so, the petite woman swivelled on her heel and shot in the direction of the exit.

"Good riddance!" Vegeta yelled at the Bulma's departing figure. "Maybe the next secretary will actually be fun in the sack instead of laying there like a fucking log!"

Without sparing a glance in his direction, Bulma shrieked, shutting the door with a forceful slam.

* * *

Bulma sat within the garage, her eyelids covering her burning orbs. She sniffled slightly as she rested her forehead against the chewed up wheel of Penelope, her hands gripping the edges of the steering wheel. Pulling her head away from the steering wheel, she puffed her cheeks before exhaling loudly.

Shoving her keys into the ignition, the old car puttered to life. Bulma pulled out of her parking spot, and puttered her way down the large, spacious garage. In the backseat, she heard metal clank against the edge of her seat, she she furrowed her brows, puzzled. Turning and glancing in the back, she saw a small box of tools and lying beside it: a crowbar.

Additionally, she had unwittingly paused in front of the Ferrari they spent precious time in, only nights before. Glancing down at her belly, she growled as she poked as he non-existent baby bump, "I'm blaming you for my craziness."

Killing the ignition, Bulma grabbed the crowbar before ripping out of her Mini, and striding over toward the black, sleek drag car. "Ha…" she glanced around the garage innocently before releasing a laugh. "No cameras? Now people are really going to think he's crazy if he says Bulma Brief demolished his Ferrari...now," she cocked her head to the side with a feral smile as she twirled the crowbar within her hand. "Which side first?"

She quickly circled the car, before stopping on the driver's side. "I like...this one," she muttered, swinging the crowbar through the glass, causing the window to shatter. The car's alarm began to blare throughout the garage, and she shrugged carelessly as she unlocked the car doors. Wadding her mouth full of spit while she sat in the driver's seat, she spat in several places within the passenger seat before nodding, content.

Whistling as she swung the crowbar around, she ran back to the yellow, ancient car before throwing the crowbar into the back. Shutting her door and buckling up, Bulma casually puttered out of the way, and through the garage.

"See, baby?" she murmured, patting her stomach with a victorious smile. "It's just you and me. We'll make it work. We don't need him."

* * *

A sleek, black convertible glided to a slow stop beside the crumbling curbside. Sliding out of the car, the man buttoned the cuffs of his shirt, adjusting his expensive wool jacket draping over his collared shirt.

The sky above released droplets of warm, summer rain and they splattered against him, sliding down his face. Sniffing loudly, he moved toward the sidewalk, his shoes dipping into small puddles as he did so.

An alleyway stretched before him, shadows dancing off broken streetlights. Grime creeped down the sides of cobbled, crumbling buildings, painting a gradient of dull gray. The gap between the walls opened like a cavernous mouth, waiting patiently to consume all that stepped within its trap. And wind whispered inside, a furtive echo lost in the music of silence.

One lamp hanging on the side of one of the buildings flickered profusely, offering a dim view of the rusted chain fence farther down, connecting the two buildings.

Stepping forward, his nostrils inhaled the smell of urine and feces, causing his stomach to lurch in disgust. As he ambled down the alley, he noted the slime running down the side of the graffiti, brick walls. Shuddering with disgust, the flame haired man redirected his attention forward, his heart pounding loudly within his chest when his eyes landed on a silhouette that was not there mere seconds before.

A silhouette had an eerily glowing bionic eye, his short figure illuminated by the soft moonlight poking through the clouds.

Senior cautiously gulped, his eyes narrowing as he breathed softly. His eyes widened slightly as they caught sight of the edge of the man's mouth, seeing the long, jagged scar that stretched to his cheekbone.

The crimson light appeared to twinkle as the sound of the artificial eye zooming in echoed quietly off of the moldering walls. A sticky sweet, unusually high pitched male voice questioned, "You requested for my expertise, Vegeta Ouji Senior?"

"Y-yes," the sole owner of Ouji Enterprises uttered, clearing his throat before straightening his back and reaching into the pocket above his chest. He pulled out a crumpled photo, offering it to the mercenary. "Trunks Brief. I want him dead."

Lithely removing the photograph from Vegeta's grasp, the assassin held the picture gently between his ringed fingers, chuckling darkly. "Doctor Brief?" he echoed, inspecting the purple-haired man with a smirk. His lip curled upward, deepening the scar imprinted on his left cheek. "This is doable, with an extra charge, of course."

Senior gritted his teeth, his eyes narrowing skeptically at the shaggy-haired man's leather-bound appearance. Now is not the time to second guess, his inner conscious growled, causing him to nod swiftly. "Yes, of course. Just as long the job is completed."

"Ah, excellent," the man smiled crookedly, stuffing the picture within his leather jacket before removing a scroll from the interior pocket. Whipping it downward with his hand, the short paper unravelled, and he held his hand far out enough for the document to be presented before Vegeta. At the bottom, an empty line with a cursive 'X' waited for a homely signature. "To be sure that you...understand our little agreement."

Squinting wearily at the clearly worn document, Vegeta reluctantly took it from his hold whilst removing a pen from his pocket. Tearing the cap with his teeth, he placed the point of the pen at the bottom and sloppily wrote his signature: Vegeta Ouji.

Accepting the scroll back, the mercenary chuckled as he rolled the document back up.

Senior tapped his foot nervously, crossing his arms over his chest with a scowl. "Can you complete the job, Frieza?"

The man's eye glowed with amusement, his lips curling back into a wicked smile the bore his sharpened teeth as he cackled, "Nobody survives me, Senior. _Nobody."_

Before Vegeta could even move his lips to form another question, the form of the man standing in front of him disappeared into the brisk darkness of night.

* * *

Loud whistling bounced off of the warm yellow walls as a man shuffled through the room toward a coffee pot. The flower on the dining table seemed to sway to the jazzy tune of his chirp. "Ah, nothing like a good ol' cup o' coffee at the crack of dawn, right Scratch?" the lavender-haired man chirped in a murmur, scratching the black feline around his neck while his eyes peering at the clock on the far wall reading midnight.

Doctor Brief's whistling turned into a melody of hums as he waddled to the kitchen counter, taking a large sip of freshly brewed coffee. He prodded at the small, broken clock laid strawn across the granite and sighed. He rested his mug beside bolts and nuts as he dug into his pocket for a cigarette.

"Damn," he mumbled, drawing a small joint from the box and sticking it between his lips. "Wonder will Bulma'll get home…"

Outside in the stormy weather, a man sat, perched at the edge of a wooden window sill. Cocking his gun, he poked the barrel through the slightly opened window, tutting at the family's ignorance. Who was foolish to leave their windows open at night? A shudder rolled down the blond man's spine, his jagged scar pulling back into a blood-lust filled grin. His veins coursed with venom and excitement as he clicked the safety button as he pressed his fingertip atop the curved trigger…

The owner of Capsule Corporation tinkered away, cluelessly standing as an excellent target. He took a few puffs from his stick of tobacco before he began to cough violently. His screwdriver fell from his hand to the floor with a 'clank', and his cigarette slipped from his lips as he choked, gasping for air. He clutched at the skin covering his heart and ribcage as it began to seemingly tighten.

His knees grew weak, and his other hand gripped the granite counter tightly as he wheezed. All of his attempts to stay standing were futile, and he fell to the floor, his breathing ragged.

Curious at this new development, Frieza lifted his face from behind the pistol's sights for a better view of his target. As he watched the old man writhing in pain on his kitchen floor, he listened closely for the sound of footsteps coming to his rescue. When minutes tucked by and no one came, he smiled to himself. 'Full pay, and the old man did it to himself. Perfectly in my favor. I won't even leave any evidence.' He fought the urge to giggle in delight. Instead, he turned from scene, satisfied his target was neutralized and returned to the warm and dry interior of his vehicle. A smile on his lips, he lit a thick cigar and drove away.

* * *

A tear-stained face entered the warm, inviting home of Capsule Corporation, sniffling loudly. Bulma kicked off her shoes, and wiped off rain droplets from her bare arms. "Mom? Dad?" she questioned loudly within the mudroom, rolling her eyes as she did so. "Why do I even bother?" she grumbled, walking down the hall and taking a right. "This house is too big, and Dad's probably in the lab, anyways…"

She ambled her way through the home slowly, sighing as if a large weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. She was no longer Cyan Noall, and she no longer had a secret to withhold. She was simply Bulma Brief, and now that she had a taste of the outside world, she could appreciate the fact that she was an heiress.

Just as she was about to make her way downstairs toward the labs, his nostrils were hit by the intoxicating aroma of coffee. She giggled into her hand as she turned on her heel, walking toward the kitchen. "Oh Daddy, so typical…" she murmured with a small smile as she stepped foot into the tiled room. "Da..."

The world surrounding her stopped moving as her breath hitched within her throat at the site of her motionless, barely breathing father. "No…" she whispered, rushing to her Dad's aid. She fell to her knees and pressed a hand to the side of his neck, feeling a faint pulse. "Shit, shit, shit!" she shrieked, digging into her pocket and whipping out her phone pressing the emergency dial.

The phone rang as she laid a limp hand over her father's weakly beating heart, and she shook violently. "Hello?!" she gasped with a sob, rocking back and forth gently. "I need an ambulance at cyan and sixth avenue, Capsule Corporation - please hurry, I think my father just had a heart attack…"

* * *

 **Wooops!**

 **What did you guys think? ;)**

 **Let me know! By the way, you can find me on tumblr (under the name daughterofvegeta)!**

 **Adieu!**

 **DoV xx**


	13. Chapter 13

**Hey, guys! Here we are with the second half of last chapter!**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything of DBZ, DB, or GT, or SUPER! I'm just writing FF to my heart's content.**

 **Published: 9-24-16**

Bleeding in Love.

* * *

"I expect my pay in full."

"He is not dead," Vegeta Senior snarled, kicking up sodden soil from the alleyway, sending it in Frieza's direction. "He is _hospitalized_ , not _dead_."

"Pity," Frieza tittered, his artificial eye creating a soft hum in dawn's soft, murky glow. "The man is out of your way none the less. Now, again I will say, Mr. Ouji, I expect my pay."

Senior scoffed, throwing his arms in the air before waving a dismissal hand toward him. "If you didn't kill the Doctor, then kill his wretched spawn."

The mercenary's patience began to deteriorate, and he clenched his jaw muscles as his toes curled within his leather boots. "If you wish me to kill Bulma Brief, I will do so - with an additional fee."

"Bullshit!" the creator of Ouji Enterprises howled, shaking his head as he snapped, "this is foul play, Mr. Cold, and frankly, I have lost patience with you." He pointed an accusing finger at the man, his eyes narrowing as a sneer curled over his lips. "You will not be paid for a job that was _failed._ End of discussion. My business with you is finished."

Frieza observed Senior's retreating figure, his head cocking to the side as his lips curled up into a wicked grin. A soft giggle escaped his lips as he chanted quietly, chilling Vegeta Senior to the bone, "Nobody survives me, Vegeta Ouji, Senior. _Nobody._ "

* * *

Heart monitors beeped throughout the private, sterile room. Strands of several IV's stuck out of both of the Trunks Brief's arms as he rested in his bed, blankets pulled up to his rounded belly. The hospital band around his wrist rattled as he slowly chewed his food, cringing as he swallowed. "Hospital food will never hold a candle to your mother's cooking, dear."

The aqua-haired heiress shook her head, slapping her forehead against his mattress. "Really, Dad?" she huffed, allowing a laugh of disbelief to escape her as she lifted her head, staring into his pale blue eyes. "You just can't help yourself when it comes to serious situations?"

"Well, I guess not. Though, it has been two days since my last cigarette." Dr. Brief ran a hand through his hair. "How is Scratch? You've been giving him plenty of attention, haven't you?"

"Oh my…" Bulma groaned, pinching the tip of her nose with a groan. "Daddy, Scratch is fine. He's been lurking around in the labs, waiting for you to come home. And, if it makes you feel any better, I haven't smoked for three days."

Thank God you're alright, she praised inwardly, sighing with relief. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you too, Daddy...

"Well, that's good. These quacks around here seem to think cigarettes had something to do with this." He scratched the purple scruff on his chin. "Have you made progress on my cappuccino machine?"

Slapping a hand to her forehead, Bulma's shoulder shook with laughter. "How...How are you even one of the smartest men alive? You're a crazy quack yourself!"

"Did I say something funny?" Dr. Brief blinked at his daughter's laugh then chuckled a bit himself.

"You're just...eugh," she smiled, patting the back of her father's wrinkly hand. "I've missed you."

"I haven't seen you in months, I supposedly almost died, and all I get is a pat on the hand?" Dr. Brief worked his mouth, a habit from all the years of puff chain smoking.

Bulma laughed before throwing her arms around him as best as she could. She placed a gentle kiss against her father's sweaty forehead, smiling. She squeezed his shoulders before pulling away. "I'm sorry I was gone for so long," she sighed, giving his hand a comforting squeeze, "I just didn't want to be the reason the company would fall."

"There, there, Bulma. Rome wasn't built in a day," he paused, a curious expiration on his face. "I guess since our company was, that proverb doesn't apply." He laughed lightly and put a hand to his chest. The incision from his quadruple bypass gave a sharp pain that quickly turned to a throbbing ache.

"Maybe, I should say, 'Easy come, easy go." His pale eyes met Bulma's, eyes so much like his own. Her father's damp hand, covered in calluses, cuts and other minor wounds from years in the lab took her own. His hands were the hands of a hard worker.

"Bulma, I built the company brick by brick. It wasn't easy, but I had you and your mother. If it was all gone tomorrow," he paused to shrug his slender shoulders, "I can always start again, as long as I have the two of you. Clear?"

She exhaled loudly while chewing her lower lip nervously. She ran a hand through her matted hair, offering him a faint nod. "Well, Ouji Senior was the one threatening to kill you unless I was out of the picture," she stated quietly, the bottoms of her eyes burning. "And I couldn't have that. So, I left so that you and Mom would survive."

"Bulma, with you out of the picture, what do I have worth living for?" The father tenderly smiled at his daughter.

"That's how I felt about you, Daddy. What would I have done without your help? How would I take over a company?" Her glossy eyes met his, and she merely shrugged. "Kids...do they really mean more to parents than parents mean to kids?" she whispered, glancing down at her stomach with a confused expression. "You're willing to risk everything for me, just like that," she snapped her fingers, resting one hand above her belly. Bulma rose her gaze back to his, her eyes pleading for an answer. "How can you give everything up for me?"

"Well...uh...I guess I just can," the harebrained genius answered as if he had thoroughly explained everything.

The blue-eyed girl sniffled loudly, wiping the underside of her nose with the back of her hand. Laughing sadly, she shook her head, ashamed of herself, "I screwed up, Daddy. Really bad."

If she meant so much to her father, would she feel the same about the child growing inside of her? Was she even capable of unconditional love? Would...Vegeta be capable of loving their child?

Oh, God.

Vegeta.

"Oh, Bulma. Come here." He patted the edge of the bed as he moved the tray table from across his lap.

Releasing a shaky sigh, Bulma scooted closer to her father, resting her head upon his right shoulder. "I worked at Ouji Enterprises the last few months as Vegeta Junior's secretary," she croaked weakly into his shoulder, "and…"

"Ouji Enterprises?" Dr. Brief released a low whistle. "Out of the pot and into the pan, eh?" His arm tightened around his daughter. "Tell me, what happened?"

She buried her face in the crook of his neck, sniffling. Was there even an easy way to admit her feelings? Probably not.

"Ifellinlovewithim," she jumbled, squeezing her eyes tightly with a whimper. "I fell in love with our biggest rival…"

"Well now." Brief held his daughter close to his chest. He had heard the rumors. He knew the kind of man Junior was reported to be. "Bulma, I'm sorry."

She choked out a laugh before sobbing, a few droplets of water leaking from her eyes. "It gets worse, if you can believe it."

"Seeing you in pain is as bad as it gets," her father soothed. "I tried so hard to protect you...I'm sorry I failed you." His hands gently stroked her arm in an attempt to comfort her.

"No, no," she shook her head, lifting her head to meet his gaze. "None of this is your fault...I was the one who left, and I'm glad that I did in a lot of ways." A comfortable silence fell between them, and she rested her head back onto his chest with a sigh. She dragged her hands to her belly, deep in thought.

If her father raised her so well, who was to say she could not raise her own child? She did not need Vegeta - and neither did their baby. "I think he loved me until he figured out my identity, he just...has a hard time expressing his emotions."

"I see," her father answered, his tone introspective. "And, you love him... Well, as long as you don't do some fool thing like those kids in that play..."

Bulma's nose scrunched with confusion, but she made no further comment on her father's reply. Instead, she quietly admitted, "I'm pregnant."

Of course, her family would have found out sooner or later. She needed the weight off of her chest - the guilt wiped from her conscious. She could not keep the secret to herself because she desired acceptance, happiness. Something that she knew would not be offered by the child's sire.

Dr. Brief's mouth fell open at her words. "Pumpkin, did you just say you're having a baby?"

The heiress released a choked sob, "Yes."

"Well…" Doctor Brief murmured, staring at the ceiling above with a large grin. "That's the most wonderful news I've heard all week! Your mother will be so happy for you."

"D-dad!" Bulma moaned miserably, "It's Vegeta's baby! What the hell am I supposed to even do?! He tossed me out - he doesn't want us, and I-I…"

The lavender-haired man released a low whistle, nodding his head slowly. "A child is a precious thing, and I am so glad to be getting a grandchild! But...this is a toughy, eh?"

The Brief girl nodded numbly, rubbing her lips together as she stifled a cry. Pressing her face into her father's blue, hospital nightgown, she released a sob as she clutched his shirt. "He doesn't know."

"Oh, Honey…" he murmured, stroking her hair gently as he rubbed her back with the soothing love only a father could possess. "If that's the case, and you say that he loves you, doesn't he deserve to know?"

Did he?

Bulma remained silent, her sniffles and the beeping monitors the only noise resounding off of the walls. Her vacant, bleary gaze stared blankly out of the window, the sunrise reflecting in her orbs. The clouds swirled with bright oranges and pinks as rays of sunshine pierced through the dark, murky clouds.

He did not deserve them, and she did not need him in their lives.

Her eyes stung as she breathed slowly, questioning herself. Did he deserve her forgiveness? No, she thought, her hands rubbing her non-existent bump, but does that mean he shouldn't know about his own child? Would he even care? Most likely not…

Nostrils flaring with each, shaky exhale, Bulma allowed for the tears to stream freely down her rounded cheeks. Did he truly love her like she assumed? Shaking her head, she released a faint whisper before the room fell into silence once more:

"I don't know."

* * *

It was everywhere.

It followed him like a phantom trying to kiss his tender lips, but he could not grasp onto it.

His home, his car, his office….they were all tainted by her intoxicating scent and face. Everytime he shut his eyes, everytime he blinked - it was her - she was there. Why? Why would she not leave him? What made her so special compared to the others that he had conquered and broken? Why...why did he feel this heavy weight above his heart?

What was the emotion? Was this...guilt? Love? Hatred?

God, he didn't know anymore! All he knew was that he wanted to kill the hurt - kill the pain she inflicted upon him through her betrayal.

"Vege-Woah, what the hell happened in here?"

The flame-haired man's intimidating gaze flickered from his sticky, coffee-stained desk to the man standing hesitantly by the door frame. With a vicious growl, he snapped, "What the hell do you want, Raditz?"

Raditz held his hands in front of him defensively, one of them clutching a pile of paperwork. "Woah, take it easy," he said smoothly, slipping into the room with a weary expression. His eyes scanned the paper-littered floors, catching sight of glimmering shards of glass. Scrunching his nose into a grimace, he walked cautiously toward the desk. "Here," he said, placing the documents down at the edge. "Whenever she has time, tell Cyan that she needs to-"

"She is no longer with us."

The eldest Son boy looked up from the floor, startled. "What?"

"She was let go," Vegeta repeated darkly, his eyebrows lowering dangerously above his ebony orbs. "Her assistance was no longer required."

The long-haired man stared at Vegeta blankly, blinking with confusion. Were we wrong to assume Vegeta liked Cyan? he wondered, his eyes narrowing in suspicion as he gawked at his boss. What happened between them? He certainly took to her much faster than all the others, and he even spent more time with her….Did-

"-you hear me?"

Raditz shook his head, his blank stare returning to focus as he stood, his full attention directed toward Vegeta.

A low snarl bubbled from the heir's chest as he slammed two fists down atop his desk, leaning over to glare at Raditz, seething, "A new secretary - by the end of today."

"Y-yeah," Raditz uttered, absolutely floored by Vegeta's demeanor. I guess something really bad must have happened…"I'll get right on it."

When his assistant left, his fingers threaded into his hair, clawing at the roots. He shot up from his chair and sent it flying backward, stopping centimeters away from the glass wall. The leather interior swiveled in a circle as Vegeta's palms clutched the sharp edges of his desk. He slouched, putting more weight upon his left leg as he hung his head low in defeat, staring at the floor.

"Goddamnit, Bulma…" he harshly whispered, his knuckles turning white as they tightened their grip on the desk. How did she do it? How did she break down the barricade surrounding his heart? How...how did she make him fall in love?

His eyes scanned the crystal shards that still littered the rug beneath his desk before they paused over the now-scratched photograph beneath the mess. Growling, he trapped the photo under his brown Oxford, dragging the face of his enemy toward him. Bending over, he snatched the picture from the floor with a scowl.

Vegeta's hands shook violently as he stared into her alluring, photographed gaze. He crumpled the wallet-sized image within his palm and walked over to the wastebasket, releasing the glossy paper. He wanted his feet to move - oh, how he wanted to leave so badly - but he could not will himself to use his legs.

That smile.

Her smile - it would never stop haunting him.

He hated her. No; he loathed her. Nevertheless, he loved her - every single thing. From the way her eyes would light up when she grinned, or how fired up she could get if he provoked her enough.

How could he have the whole world at his fingertips and not have what he desired most? Why couldn't she leave him in peace? But...why couldn't he have her; keep her?

Bulma _betrayed_ him.

She _lied_ to him.

She _deceived_ him.

His blood boiled at the thought. How did he end up like this? So in love with another being? He dug himself a hole so deep, he did not know how to climb his way out. Snarling at his own weakness, Vegeta bent over and swiped the picture from the can before he gazed at her digitalized smile.

God, she was beautiful.

 _His rival._

There was no possible future between them; he knew that and she did, too. Their fathers' companies had been hell-bent on surpassing the other for so long, they had no chance merging Ouji Enterprises and Capsule Corporation together, peacefully. If he and Bulma became a publicized couple, there would be an uproar within the companies that catered to both Ouji and Capsule.

He wanted her, but he could not have her, ever.

He held the item within one hand as he carelessly tore away Seventeen's face before throwing inside the trash. Between his forefinger and thumb, his heart ached as he observed the now frayed and wrinkled picture. Growling softly, he hissed, "Why will you not leave me alone, witch?"

Of course, no reply that he desired to hear came.

If he could not have her, he would keep her safely tucked away within his memories.

Finally after moments of silence, Vegeta's quiet steps clipped against the floor as he headed toward the exit, shoving the photograph of Bulma within his pocket.

* * *

The inky, stormy air of night had cloaked him within the shadows before his feet gently connected with the marble flooring of the elegant bathroom. With gloved hands, the man quietly slid the window back into its original position with a soft click.

Chortling quietly to himself, the man exited the bathroom and lithely walked down the halls. Everything was so familiar - the feeling of chills running down his spine at the delicious, whimsical notion of murder. Darkness lurked within the hallways of the mansion and cool air dared to dance with the silence within the home.

The man, bound by black, leather fabrics and a heavy cloak he wore for each pernicious occasion, knew the acts of murder well - all too well. He relished in the excitement and thrill that grappled him as shivers of joy and delight roll in waves across his skin as he took precious time to prepare.

Turning past a sharp corner, Frieza glided down the hallway before stopping before a tall, finished oak entrance. Opening the entryway to the master ensuite, the door creaked quietly as he slipped within the comforting shades of black.

A feral grin stretched across his lips like smooth butter as he neared the mattress, and a ray of silvery light peering past the curtains stained the king-sized bed. Upon the mattress, a towering, lumpy figure laid, motionless.

His eyes glittered with blood-lust as the scar at the edge of his thin lips stretched, cutting deeply into his unshaven cheek. The intruder smiled, knowing perfectly well the silhouette within the bed was a prop, just a deceiving little toy. Folding his gloved hands behind the small of his back, he stood patient, waiting.

Hearing the faint sound of footsteps, the intruder turned, swiftly catching the wrist of his enemy. His grin morphed into a cruel smirk at the sight of the wide ebony eyes that stared, terrified.

The shaking man gulped as he twisted his wrist within the other person's grasp, holding a jagged, narrow dagger between his bony fingers. "Release me!" he demanded, determined not to allow the fear seeping into his pores to be vocalized. "I said: 'Release me!'!"

Tilting his head to the side, the experienced mercenary giggled childishly, his eyes shining. He squeezed the victim's wrist tightly as his other hand flew to his cheeks, gripping them tightly between his fingers as he brought the man down to eye level with him.

Senior grunted, tugging against Frieza's hold with a scowl.

"Silly Senior," Frieza chided, clucking his tongue against the roof of his mouth once before he cooed, "Vengeance can only be sweet if you succeed."

All of the air from Vegeta's lungs squeezed as his abdomen connected violently against his mattress. The tip of his dagger dug gently into his cheek as Frieza bound his wrists with a small hand. "In this case," the assassin whispered, the stench of his foul breath flooding into Vegeta's nostrils, "there will not have been a vengeance sweeter than this."

Cackling, Frieza pulled the sharpened end away from his cheek and caught the small droplet of blood against the blade. He held it high in the air, his eyes admiring the way the crimson bead glided down the hollow scrap of alloy. Feeling Senior struggle beneath his straddle, Frieza frowned as he questioned, "Getting impatient, are we?"

Releasing another soft chuckle, he hovered the blade above the middle of Vegeta's back, teasingly pressing it against his pristine white shirt. "Where, oh where should I begin?" he childishly taunted, "Here?" he questioned, dragging the dagger gently above Senior's right shoulder blade before resting it above the small of the man's back, "or here?"

Vegeta's eyes were wide with terror as he squirmed within the murderer's hold. How the hell is he so strong? The little mutt! he internally screamed, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he kicked his legs. To no avail, the assailant would not budge. "Damn you!"

"Such impressive last words," Frieza mused, before gasping, "Here!"

The blade dug deep into Vegeta's bronzed flesh and a blood-curdling scream ripped past his throat. He pressed his face against the mattress, his teeth clamped down into the silk sheets, his body thrashing.

Frieza shuddered with pleasure, his hands shaking with excitement as he stared at the restless victim. His lips curled into a sneer as he traced another wound into the wealthy man's flesh, savouring the cries and cursed profanities echoing off of the walls of the room.

The once pure-white shirt was soddened with blood, the thick, hot liquid pouring from the ripped stretches along Senior's back. Sniggering to himself, Frieza retracted the smeared metal from his victim's body before his muscles tensed, twitching with eagerness.

Frieza's eyes narrowed with malice and concentration as the blade hung above the untainted skin protecting the man's lower back before sinking into the flesh, stabbing the kidney.

Vegeta's mouth opened with a silent roar, his eyelids fluttering shut in attempts to succumb to consciousness, but the sociopath straddling him slapped the side of his head.

"We're almost there," he purred in his silky voice before removing the dagger with a harsh tug, causing Senior to scream in agony. "' _Your business with me is finished'!_ " Frieza mocked with a shrill cry of laughter before swinging his arm down, plunging the alloy into the nape of Vegeta's neck, slicing his spinal cord as the blade sunk past two vertebrae disks.

Blood poured from Vegeta's gash, and he coughed violently, the back of his throat gurgled with hot, coppery liquid. A faraway, distant look glazed over the goateed man's eyes as he fell limp, unmoving.

Frieza squaked with elation, his face emanating a look of pure joy. His insanity was clearly evident - but that simple fact did not restrain his lust to witness death. Pressing two fingers against Senior's smooth neck, he checked for a pulse before grinning wickedly, "You're definitely dead, fool."

Ungluing himself from Vegeta's lifeless figure, Frieza stood at the side of the bed, his red eye glowing in appreciation at the bloodied mess he had created. Dipping his fingers into Senior's still oozing back, he dyed his fingers crimson before connecting them to the wall, smearing: Junior.

Pulling away and grinning at his masterpiece, he giggled manically as he pivoted on his heel, patting himself on the back for a job well done. As his feet hopped over a pool of searing blood, he paid no mind to another lost soul lurking behind him, screaming.

Murder hung in the air like a thick fog, creeping through the streets of East City before engulfing it completely as the assailant fled from the mangled body, the moon and stars his only witness.

* * *

 **So...how was that, y'all? Let me know in a review and or comment!**

 **Check out my profile on tumblr! You can find me under the same name, just like on here. We're close to wrapping things up! And then? The sequel...*rubs hands together gleefully***

 **Until next time!**

 **DoV**


	14. Chapter 14

_Hey, guys! Here's the next chapter, comin' your way._

 _Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING OF DB, DBZ, OR GT. ALL RIGHTS GO TO FUNIMATION, FUJI TV, AND AKIRA TORYIAMA._

 _Posted: October 1st, 2016._

 _Stone Cold._

* * *

The season of summer had long ended one month prior to this day, and the leaves of October swayed amongst the trees, hanging on the each branch by their stems. Each leaf had turned a warm yellow or an auburn, reddish orange.

And just like the breeze sweeping the leaves from the trees, the love within his heart was being eroded by the same, cold wind.

Four months had passed since he last saw her.

Each month had been spent with loathing, hatred, and spitefulness toward life. His sire had died - which in his mind, was beneficial - but nonetheless, deteriorating. The company was fully his, but his father was murdered, and now the man was after him.

Since the day the police showed him _'Juniour'_ smeared against the upholstery behind the bed frame, he had received a letter or two requesting for money. Though, the frustrating thing was that the business the mercenary had done with Senior was with his father - not him.

Vegeta's chest rose and fell quickly as his breaths escaped him, ragged. He rested the nape of his neck against the plush armrest of one of the sofa's within the couch pit. His eyes raked the form of his now dazed, blonde secretary and he frowned, hard.

He inhaled deeply, the ebbing floral scent mixed with sweat permeating around him from his latest romp. The woman's scent smelt similar to his last lover, the same one that had damaged his heart beyond repair.

The blue-haired beauty that had captured him within her enchanting charm was never far from his mind. She was always somewhere - whether it be on the news, the local papers, or top ten magazines - she was there, taunting him.

A sense of longing washed over him, and he suddenly wished that the broad atop his chest was Bulma instead.

Everytime he saw images of her, they chipped away at his heart, replacing the piece with a hard, impenetrable cover. A coldness had swept over him since the day she left, and he was disinterested with the people around him except himself. He no longer cared about his careless actions, and it was all about his gain, no matter the cost.

He drowned himself in work to ignore the internal pain he could not seem to be rid of. He hated the tight clenching inside of his chest when she popped into his mind, and with the trusty help of a bottle of whiskey and a stack of paperwork, he sometimes was able to void his mind of her pretty face.

Bulma had betrayed him in measures beyond his reach, and it disgusted him. How could someone lie about their entire life, their identity? How could he have fallen so hard for a pathetic woman? She was merely to serve as a distraction, and instead, she became a catastrophic mess.

The female laying atop his chest lifted her head, raising her brows with a suggestive smile. "Another round, Mr. Ouji?"

"No."

Vegeta pushed the girl away from his chest before standing, tugging up his trousers to his waist. "Get up and dressed," he stated gruffly, zipping his fly as he grabbed his discarded shirt from the floor. "You're done for today."

* * *

The lobby was bustling with life, several workers heading their way toward the golden elevators. Chatter mixed with the warm, summer air filling the atmosphere within the room.

A long-haired man leaned on the countertop of the main desk, offering a lopsided grin to the receptionist. "C'mon sweets," he drawled, waggling his brows, "I promise lunch will be excellent if you join me."

The red-headed receptionist giggled into her hand, her green eyes sparkling with amusement. "Sure, Mr. Raditz," she gave him a flirtatious wink, "as long as I get to choose."

Raditz slapped the counter gently, puckering his lips before turning away from the desk. He chuckled to himself, rubbing his hands together with excitement, "Alright. Now, just have to wa-" he paused mid-sentence, the colour blue flickering in the corner of his eyes.

Whipping his head in the direction of the aqua hair, his jaw slacked in awe as his eyes landed on the figure belonging to none other than Bulma Brief.

* * *

Bulma hurriedly marched toward an open elevator, thanking Kami that it was empty. She slipped inside, pressing the button for the highest floor repeatedly. Just as the doors were about to slide shut, a hand wrapped around the metal door.

Bulma gasped, clutching her chest at the sight of the man who pushed through the doors.

Once Raditz had slipped through into elevator, he ran a hand through his hair. It was better to keep this conversation as private as possible, and what better place than the elevator? His long fingers pressed the close door button insistently, scowling at Bulma as he hissed, "What are you doing here, Bulma?"

The heiress's stomach lurched as the elevator began to move. "I need to speak with Vegeta."

"Ohoho," Raditz chuckled, shaking his head as he began to pace the floor of the moving cart, "seriously? What the hell are you thinking?! He doesn't want to see you!"

Bulma's fingers curled at her sides as she snarled, "I don't care - I need to see him, and it is none of your business!"

Raditz scrutinized the woman before him, his eyes narrowing his suspicion. Why was she here? Did she not realize the damage that she had already concocted? His gaze raked her figure, head to toe, pausing every few seconds on certain areas. She wore a short-sleeved burgundy dress that rested above her knees, offering a view of her creamy lower legs. The dress was tight around her bust, and he noticed a zipper and metal teeth trailing all the way up the length of the dress. His eyes landed around her stomach, before he paused as his breathing hitched at the unwelcoming sight.

His eyes widened and his throat tightened as his stare flew back toward her midsection. "Oh my Kami...y-you're…"

"Pregnant?" she rose an irritated brow, before she snapped under her breath, "Yes."

Bulma ran a nervous hand through her newly-trimmed locks, her eyes staring at the short ends. She sighed, dragging her fingers away from her shoulder-length hair, ruffling her bangs with a frown. She had been contemplating this for weeks now - about how she would explain her pregnancy to Vegeta.

In the beginning, she simply refused to tell him, or even allow to let him have one thought about having a son. However, as the bulge within her stomach grew and as the months passed, the child and guilt seemingly began to weigh her down.

What type of mother would she be if she did not allow the father of her child to know about his existence? A terrible one, she thought miserably, clutching the gold railing behind her as she stared at the metallic ceiling above them. She blinked her burning eyes as she stared at their reflections, her heart beating wildly against her chest. I don't want to do this, baby, she inwardly whispered, resting a hand against her swollen tummy, he doesn't deserve you...us.

She adjusted the straps of her leather purse against her shoulder as she fumbled with a small photograph in her hand with a frown. She stared at it, trailing a finger against the black and white image before glancing up at Raditz, frowning, "Are you done staring?"

Raditz blinked, shaking his head in disbelief as he managed to weakly state, "You cut your hair."

Bulma snorted before scoffing, "How observant of you." The elevator opened with a light ding and she brushed passed the man, scowling as he followed her.

"Bulma...I don't think now is the best time!"

She released a frustrated howl as she called over her shoulder, "There is never a best time, damnit Raditz! But, now seems like a good time as any!"

The tall, burly man scrambled behind the heiress, reaching for her hand as they arrived at the office door. "Bulma," he stated seriously, tugging at her hand, causing her to growl, "please lis..-"

At that moment, the door opened, revealing a small blonde who was adjusting her blouse. "Oops, sorry Raditz," she blushed with an embarrassed giggle. Her eyes widened at the sight of aqua-haired beauty standing inches away from her and she stammered, "I-I don't remember setting Mr. Ouji up for any appointments today?"

Raditz felt Bulma tensing within his palm, and he offered the secretary a tight-lipped smile. "Oh," he laughed through clenched teeth, "don't worry - I took care of this one. You have a good day."

"Yuh-huh…" she murmured gently before shrugging, and moving past them. "See you tomorrow, Raditz."

Bulma's heart plinked against each of her ribs before resting in the pits of her stomach, and she released a shaky exhale. She wanted to vomit - or the baby, she did not care which - everywhere. Her shoulders tensed as she stared at the floor, bleary-eyed.

"Bul-"

"I'm fine," she gritted through her tightened jaw, pulling her hand away from Raditz's. Her eyelids fluttered rapidly and her long lashes kissed her cheeks. She shook her head with a choked laugh, "I shouldn't have expected anything less."

Turning on her heel, she slipped through the opened doorway, closing it with a soft 'click.'

* * *

Bulma watched as he pulled his white shirt over his shoulders, Vegeta's back facing toward her. She released a soft sigh, wiping furiously at her stinging eyes before tears could fall. Why did she still hurt this much? How could the fact that he was sleeping with other women cause her so much unwanted pain?

It was not as if all of this was a surprise - oh no, she expected him to be practicing his old habit like a relapsing addict. But, why was she not over him? Why could she not overcome her intense feelings for the man? Did the Kais above want to spite her for an odd reason or two? If they did, they were doing a damned good job about it.

The flame-haired man was already half-way through buttoning his shirt as he stated calmly with a hint of irritation, "I told you, you are dismissed for the day."

Bulma's lips puckered and she shivered. Should she just turn around and leave? She stood, frozen in place as her heart battered against her chest, wanting to jump away from her insides. No, she could not leave. She sucked in a deep breath full of courage, knowing that she had to collect herself. She needed to be strong enough to face him-for their baby's sake. "I-I'm not going to leave," she croaked hoarsely, moving her gaze from his back down to the small picture of their baby held between her fingers, "not until we talk."

"I seem to recall you making that decision months ago." Vegeta's fingers finished with the next to last button at his throat and turned to face the intruder. "It's too late to change your...mind." He paused as his eyes caught sight of Bulma's belly.

'Show her nothing,' He silently commanded, stealing himself against the woman who had come so close to breaking him. "I see you didn't waste anytime climbing beneath a new man." A sneer spread across his face as Vegeta allowed his anger to fuel him. "I certainly wish you well. Let me know when the wedding is; I'll be sure to send a card. Now, get out," he spat from between clenched teeth.

Even now, after all this time apart, he still could not understand what it was about her that brought forth such anger from within him. Why could he not forget about her? Why did she continuously haunt him in both at night, and the light of day? Only one other person had even held the same sway over him - Senior. The thought only incensed him more, causing his blood to boil as his teeth and fists clenched.

Pursing her lips in anger, her small fingers curled around the picture within her palm before she paused herself. She glanced down at her swollen belly, releasing an anguished sigh as she shook her head. The child was the reason that she had returned. Of course, however due to her misfortune, everything led back to Vegeta eventually.

"Do you really think," she began, her eyes raising to meet his as she pried the words from her lips, "that I would show up here to flaunt being pregnant if he wasn't yours?"

"Of course you would." Vegeta forced a smoothness into his voice and his steps as he moved toward her, invading her personal space. "How much lower can things get for me except that you show up with another man's child? I'm not a fool, woman, though you did make me temporarily lose my head." He moved forward another step, until their bodies were almost touching. "However, I promise you, that will never happen again."

He smirked as he gazed down at her face, her pretty face. A growl pushed that thought away as he turned from her.

"Show yourself out, or I'll have security do it for you."

Bulma trembled with a rage, and her hand shot out like a viper's tongue, wrapping around his bicep before he could turn away. No - she would not allow him to leave - not until he knew what he was losing. "I'm five months along," she hissed, spittle flying from her lips as she slapped the picture against his chest. Her fingers tightened around his tense, bulging muscle and she grounded out, "You are the only man I have ever shared a bed with, Vegeta. He, is, yours."

With a growl of fury, Vegeta pushed her hand away. "Nice try. I don't believe you. Everything you've ever said to me was a lie. Now, get out of my office!"

"You know what?!" she threw her hands in the air, watching the picture of their creation fall lamely to the floor. She clenched her eyes tightly, succumbing to defeat as he pushed their child away.

"You didn't even deserve to know. I don't know why I bothered," she choked out her words, backing away from him. She wanted her words to cut deeply into him just at the feeling of rejection felt for her and their son. "Who knows? You'd probably be exactly like your father."

Vegeta's eyes were wild as he rounded on her. "At least he was honest with me!" The vein in his forehead pulsed as he felt his hands shaking. "I said, 'Get out!'"

The heiress stood her ground, continuing to egg him on further, "How can you not want your own child, your son?!" she screeched, balling her hands into small fists at her sides. Through clenched teeth, her voice lowered a dangerous octave, chilling him to the bone. "All he will ever know is that his father casted him aside, unwanted. He will never forgive you, Vegeta, never," she shook her head as she clamped a hand to her mouth, whimpering brokenly, "not until I do."

"It seems I've already surpassed my father," he coolly replied. "Now, see yourself out. You know the way.

"You despicable...son'uvabitch," she choked on her words, tears staining her cheeks as she seethed, "I hate you….I hate you!"

Vegeta's lips curled at her words. "Join the club. You're in good company."

She needed to leave.

Sad laughter bubbled from her throat, and she shook her head as she swivelled on her heel. Casting a glare over her shoulder, she snapped with scornful contempt as she paused at the doorway. "Do you hear me, Vegeta?" she croaked. "I hate you. So congratulations, you're more of a monster than your own father. And look where he ended up - in a casket, alone and angry." With nothing left to say, she disappeared from sight, slamming the door shut forcefully behind her.

Despite bracing himself, Vegeta winced, startled by the noise. His black eyes stared straight ahead, unseeing. She had walked into his life twice, now. Both were unexpected.

The first, she had left without ceremony or even a word when she fled through his condo's door.

Now, for the second time, he had allowed her to go.

Vegeta lowered his eyes to the exquisite hardwood floors of his office, and the paper Bulma had dropped caught his eye.

A photograph.

The sole owner of Ouji Enterprises bent to the floor to retrieve the picture - a sonogram image of a baby boy, proud of his manhood.

His heart clenched as he read the date of the image and Cyan - no, Bulma's - script of the baby's age. Unless she was lying when she wrote it, the boy was his.

A knot occluded Vegeta's throat as he fought a burning in his eyes. "You're better off without me, anyway."

The proud CEO tucked the tiny photo into his breast pocket, wishing he could do really tuck away his emotions, too.

* * *

Bulma hiccuped as she reclined on her couch, propping her swollen feet atop the glass coffee table. The television screen illuminated the room in a warm glow, adding light to the dimly lit room. The heiress wiped away the small trail of snot below her nose, sniffling as she did so. With a sigh, she dug her silver spoon into an opened carton of chocolate ice cream before popping it into her mouth.

A small dribble of cream leaked from the corner of her mouth, and she licked it away with the tip of her tongue. Her eyes remained unfocused on the commercials displayed before her, her heart wrenching with several emotions.

We don't need him, she thought morosely, grumbling to herself as she stuck a pillow behind the small of her back. I don't need him to raise you. I can do it by myself.

Whistling happily, Panchy Brief danced into Bulma's sight, a duster in hand. She paused long enough to pirouette then dust the lamp beside her daughter.

"Bulma, did you eat that half gallon by yourself?" she chirped in her perpetually happy tone.

Bulma's left eye twitched, her grip upon the handle of the spoon tightening. Kami, how could this woman be so...so happy all the time? "I was having a craving for ice cream," she responded monotonously, not offering her mother any additional information.

"Oh, honey." Panchy gracefully turned to sit by her daughter. "Come, now. Tell your mother what's wrong."

Bulma side-glanced at her mother, tensing slightly as the woman wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She sighed before managing to relax within her mother's gentle hold, and she rested her head upon the blonde's shoulder. Silence befell the two for a few moments before Bulma hesitantly relented, "That bastard claims the child is not his, and booted us out."

"Oh, dear." Panchy reached for the cardboard carton and spoon. "Now, now," she softly chided as Bulma whimpered in protest. "Don't hurt yourself and my grandson over that dick."

Bulma released several giggles, her face flushed before she breathed slowly, directing her attention back toward her mother. "I'm...I'm sorry," she gasped, placing a hand over her racing heart with a grin, "but...I can't believe you just said 'dick'!"

"Oh, Bulma, dear. I wasn't born old, ya know." Panchy set the ice cream carton aside. "I do know a thing or two about men. How do you think you got here?"

"I fell in love with him…" she muttered under her breath, slapping a hand to her forehead, shaking her head miserably. "I don't even know how."

Bulma's mother tightened her embrace around her daughter's shoulders. "Baby, we all fall at some time. Look what I fell for. Your father lives in his lab and barely comes out to eat, but when I look at him, I see how gentle he is. I always feel safe when he's around. I'm sure Vegeta has done similar qualities." She paused and softly kissed her daughter's forehead.

"I just…" she sighed, shoving her face into her mother's neck as she trembled. "I just wish he at least wanted his son, or act like it. When I saw him today, all the feelings that I thought I pushed away, they...they…" she sniffled, shaking her head with disappointment. "I wish that I could get over him."

"I wish I could make it all better." With an aching heart, Panchy patted her back. "I wonder-," she started then stopped and shook her head. "Nevermind."

Bulma pulled away slightly from her mother's embrace, frowning at the blonde's dismissal behaviour. She rested a hand upon his belly as she quirked a brow, "What?"

"Oh...I was just thinking..." The older woman considered her words and sighed. "Baby, what if he was acting out to hide his own feelings? Can you imagine how betrayed he must have felt?"

Feeling Bulma take a breath in preparation to defend herself, Panchy placed the pad of her pointer finger on her daughter's lips. "I'm not saying you should forgive him, but I'm not saying this is completely over. You have your entire life for this to be finished.

"Right now, you need to focus on yourself and this," she placed her hand on Bulma's rounded belly, "little treasure."

Sighing, Bulma turned away from her mother with a frown. She rubbed her swollen midsection with a moan, resting her head within her mother's lap. She was right - as always. Vegeta did not deserve her forgiveness, but she needed to set her issues with him aside, for the sake of the baby. "Yeah, you're right," Bulma mumbled before sparing a glance in Panchy's direction, her eyes pleading, "does that mean I can get my ice cream back?"

Panchy giggled at Bulma's one-track mind. "I don't think so. Now, get up. I'm going to make you a nice cup of hot tea to balance you out. Then, we're going for retail therapy," she sang the last two words. "We have a nursery to furnish!"

Bulma released a groan as forced herself to sit up, before slowly standing from the sofa, a hand clutching her mother for balance. "Alright," she muttered with a sigh, waddling her way toward the kitchen, "this kid'll be the death of me…"

* * *

The dark, sterile room that a man with braided hair entered was frigid, no warmth emanating around him. A shiver rolled down his spine as his gaze bounced around the pristine, organized shelves and furniture. Walking quietly toward the desk, he cleared his throat before gently placing a manilla envelope upon the sleek desk. "M'lord," he greeted the silhouette with the shining eye that studied him, "I have brought you information on Juniour."

One hand darted out and snatched the envelope before receding into the shadows once more. The sound of tearing paper echoed throughout the room, and the paper crinkled under the mercenary's vice-like grip. He removed glossy pieces of paper, examining them with a frown. "Explain, Zarbon."

"You see, Mr. Cold," the fake, green-haired man began smoothly, flipping his braid over his shoulder. "The Brief girl was visiting the eldest Ouji, and she is evidently pregnant. They had their...lover's spat around five months prior to today. This only confirms your suspicion that the child is indeed, Vegeta Juniour's."

Frieza's jagged scar curved as his lips pulled upward into a wicked grin as his fingers trembled with excitement. A girlish giggle escaped his lips as he giddily bounced in his chair, his eyes glinting with mirth. "Zarbon," the tyrant began, swiping a photograph and flipping it against the desk. He pulled a pen from a cup holder, pressing the runny ink against the back of the digitalized image, scrawling sloppily, _'They're next.'_

Tee-heeing to himself as he held the picture out to his lackey, Frieza shuddered with delight as he spoke chillingly, "Enact tactic C in four months time, and tell Dodoria to eliminate Target A. Be sure to place this warning somewhere on the person once the target is down. Understood?"

"Yes, Lord Frieza."

The sadistic man threw his head back and released a cackle before slumping in his chair. His bionic, crimson eye glimmered at Zarbon exited the room, and he whispered to himself, "The enemy shall die…"

* * *

 _I sincerely apologize for those of you who wanted to see development of Bulma's pregnancy. I promise in the sequel that is exactly what you will receive. However, in order to advance to the sequel, this is what had to be done._

 _Check out my profile and visit one of the forums I'm apart of-I'm a moderator for The Prince and the Heiress community! Also, I am now on tumblr and you can find me under the same name: daughterofvegeta._

 _If you have any questions, comments, or concerns about the story, please let me know in a PM or a review._

 _Please leave a review!_

 _Until next time,_

 _DoV xx_


	15. Chapter 15

**Hey, guys! Here we are with the second half of last chapter!**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything of DBZ, DB, or GT, or SUPER! I'm just writing FF to my heart's content.**

 **10-7-16**

* * *

Four minutes.

Soft, impatient chatter wafted throughout the boardroom, causing a flame-haired man to growl under his breath. "Damnit, brat," he muttered, drumming his fingers against his bicep as he tapped his foot beneath the long, wooden table that seated twelve.

A scowl tugged Vegeta's lips as his eye twitched in irritation, his gaze glued to the door. What is taking him so long?

Six minutes.

The men surrounding the table all babbled, anxious to begin the meeting despite the lack of appearance from the youngest Ouji. There were several important items on the list to discuss, one of them being the takeover of several tech conglomerates in the North - a discussion Vegeta himself knew little about without Tarble's assistance.

Seven and a half minutes.

"Mr. Ouji, sir," a man spoke, hushing the voices surrounding the glossy table, "Might I suggest that we begin without Mr. Tarble?"

Vegeta's intimidating eyes darted toward the man speaking, his upper lip curling over his pearly whites. "No."

Eight minutes.

"But, si-..."

The door flew open with a loud bang!, revealing the blanched face of Raditz Son. His face was a colourless, pale white, and sweat stains were visible under the armpits of his shirt. Striding over to Vegeta quickly whilst gasping for air, he bent over to his boss's ear, quietly informing him of the events that occurred outside.

The flame-haired man's brows lowered dangerously above his eyes, knitting together in confusion before shooting upward in astonishment. His arms unfolded from his chest as his jaw slacked at the whispered news, and he grunted before standing from the table.

He fumbled with his jacket button, his fingers twitching as he stated, "Raditz will stay with you until my return. If it is not within the hour, the meeting is closed and will reopen another time." Without another word, the oldest Ouji rushed out of the room, silently praying.

Raditz gazed at the collection of white haired men, each one with a sterner expression than the last. Geez. What do I know about board meetings?

"So...anyone want donuts?" he offered, scratching a sudden itch at the nape of his neck as he grinned cheesily, his body tensing under their glares.

 _Kami, help me now…_

* * *

How many hours had it been?

Seven?

Nine?

Pacing, he glared at the floor, deep in thought. His brother had been stabbed - most likely by the same lunatic that had slayed their father - and he was currently in surgery, fighting for his life, again.

Vegeta recalled the dreadful day that he had lost his mother, and almost his brother as well. She had died during childbirth, and Tarble had been born premature by a month. With being underweight and underdeveloped, the doctors predicted he only a day or two to live, if that.

Their father had changed - for the worse. With his wife gone, he turned into an emotionless monster, never wanting anything to do with his children. He hated Tarble, and told his eldest to follow suit because Tarble had killed their mother. However, instead of loathing the baby, he took the responsibility of protecting him from their wretched sire, swearing to keep him safe.

Evidently, promises were useless.

Vegeta growled as his fingers pressed against his covered biceps, and he bit the tip of his tongue. He did not know much about Tarble's injuries, besides the fact that he went straight from the Emergency Room and into surgery.

Simply put, the wounds were lethal.

The door to the waiting room opened quietly, and Vegeta's head snapped toward the entryway and he paused his movements, hopeful that it was the doctor. When he saw that it was not, he released another growl before pacing once more.

"Vegeta…" the voice began, holding two, royal-blue plastic trays of food. The tall, unruly-haired figure walked toward the man, offering the man a plate. "You need to eat. It's been a long time."

The eldest Ouji shook his head stubbornly, turning away from the food with a sneer.

Sighing, Goku placed the two trays atop a coffee table, scratching the nape of his neck with a frown. For the last few hours, he had studied his distressed friend and felt powerless. What was there to even say to encourage him? Despite always having a positive outlook on life, the happy-go lucky man could not bring himself to reassure Vegeta about Tarble's chances of living. Because, during this time, the odds were not in favour of life - they were in favour of _death._

They both knew that.

"Vegeta," he prodded again, stepping toward his companion, "you really need to eat. You need the energy."

"Don't tell me what I _can_ and _cannot_ do!" Vegeta snarled, whipping around to face his tall guard. He grabbed a fistful of Goku's shirt, crumpling it within his grasp as a vein bulged on his forehead. Spittle flew from his mouth as he seethed, " _My_ brother, _my_ goddamned responsibility, Kakarot."

The door slid open once more, causing Vegeta to release his hold on Goku before pushing him away. Turning to face the doorway, Vegeta exhaled loudly at the sight of the doctor, his shoulders slumping slightly.

"The nurses have said that you have dug a trench into the floor with all of your pacing," the white-haired man joked weakly, his hand gripping a clipboard. His tired eyes met Vegeta's, and he tugged down a mask from his face. "I'm Doctor Grisham."

"Enough with the formalities," Vegeta snapped, irritated as he tapped his foot impatiently. "What of Tarble's condition?"

The older man sighed heavily, and Vegeta had to refrain from allowing his face to slip. What had happened to his brother? Was he even alive?...Was he alone?

"Tarble is still alive, but obviously we cannot use the term well," the doctor began, flipping a page on his clipboard. He drummed his fingers against the thin piece of wood before continuing, "He was stabbed in the lung, and had the dagger gone any farther, it would have nicked his heart. However, due to the knife being pulled out of him, he has lost a substantial amount of blood. As we speak, he is currently resting in ICU with blood transfusions."

His chocolate brown eyes met Vegeta's, waiting for the man to respond. When he did not, the doctor continued. "Additionally, we have to implant a tube into his trachea so that he can breathe. He also has tubes in his back and is hooked up to a ventilator, heavily sedated. Despite the odds, we believe that he can make a full recovery. He just requires time."

Vegeta released a shaky breath he did not realize that he was holding. Nodding his head numbly as his mind registered the information, he cleared his throat, his gaze avoiding the doctor's. "Anything else?"

The surgeon shook his head, and Vegeta grunted, pointing a finger to the doorway. "Speak to me if conditions change."

Goku's eyes followed the doctor's retreating form before they shifted back toward Vegeta, grinning. He began to babble excitedly, but the stoic man muted his words. "See, Vegeta?! Tarble'll be fine…"

The idiot continued to talk incessantly, but the words did not reach the supposed listener's ears.

Vegeta turned his head toward the window overlooking the shadowed city, a frown tugging his lips. He crossed his arms over his chest, watching the lights of the city twinkle in dusk's wake. His jaw clenched in fury at the thought of Tarble not surviving - whoever had done this was going to pay severely.

How was he going to target the culprit? There was little to no evidence. How would he know the assassin's plan of action? Was all that the man wanted was money? Obviously not if his targets were some of the few individuals Vegeta genuinely cared about…

His eyes widened for a fraction of a second, using willpower to refrain himself from slapping his forehead. He swore loudly - causing Goku to pause mid-rant - and he began pacing once more, gritting his teeth.

The targets were ones he cared about.

Bulma...he thought with a sour expression, raking his fingers through his fiery mane before tugging at the roots of his hair. "Goddamnit!" he bellowed as he abruptly stopped his pacing. To his left, he swiped a lamp from a small perch before throwing it to the ground, shattering the glass as he hissed, bewildered, "Fuck!"

The wretched woman was the next target, or worse yet - the baby. Vegeta stopped dead in his tracks, his pulse pounding in his ears as all of his movements froze.

The child.

His _son._

His _heir._

The mercenary was after them - he could feel the truth creeping into his veins like a poison slowly dragging him toward death. What was there to do? There was nothing that he could do. The unknown murderer had enticingly led him into a trap - one that was not easy to escape.

His hands trembled violently and his eyes clenched tightly as he hissed through gritted teeth. Think, think, think! his conscious bellowed as both hands clutched the side of his head. The woman...she needs protection, she needs-"

"Vegeta?"

The CEO's eyes snapped open, his heartbeat stopping for a fraction of a second. He inhaled sharply at his name, turned on his heel, and faced toward the big oaf he had hired eighteen months prior, per Raditz's pleading.

His vacant eyes met the unruly-haired man's, fingers twitching at his sides. Could the buffoon truly protect the child? Could he really manage to preserve his heir and the Ouji name?

Words of his oath long ago rang throughout the emptiness of his mind: _"Thanks for the job, 'Geta. I promise and swear on my life to protect you and your loved ones with my life! If that means anything to you."_

Blinking his dazed look from bleary orbs, his breathing hitched slightly as the muscles flexed in his jaw. It was not a matter of whether Kakarot was capable of shielding the small, broken family he had not intended on creating - it was a matter of whether he could trust the man to guard the other _half of his heart._

The word was not used loosely within his world. Trust was hard to come by - especially in the corporate world - but the idiot had earned his respect within the time he had been around.

Kakarot had gained his trust.

And was all the reassurance he needed to allow him for the words to crisply fall from his lips, emotionless.

"You're fired."

Goku's eyes widened, thin lips parting as he uttered, "What?"

Vegeta's fingers clenched together tightly as he inhaled sharply, calmly repeating, "You're fired. Get out of my sight."

"Wha?! Vegeta!" Goku exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air as his face flushed with a light pink. "What are you talking about? You can't fire me!"

"I just did," the CEO snapped back with ferocity, hissing, "you failed to do your job. Now leave."

The blood within Goku's veins gushed furiously as his heart plunked to the acidic pits of his stomach. Was Vegeta being serious? "Vegeta," Goku croaked, face becoming crestfallen as he pleaded, "I-I couldn't have protected Tarble. I-I didn't know!"

"I said, 'Get out!'" Vegeta bellowed, his words laced with venom as a pointer finger extended toward the doorway. "NOW!"

"Please, Vegeta!" the unruly-haired man cried, his lips twitching into a frown, eyes begging Vegeta's. "I'm trying to get married, a-and I have a baby on the way…"

The flame-haired man brushed off the man's words with ease, but could not help inwardly cringing at the word 'baby'. A scowl dug into Vegeta's lips before he snarled, "Not my problem. Go search for a job elsewhere. How about you work for the traitorous, blue-haired bitch at Capsule Corporation?"

Goku took a step back from the shorter figure, stunned into silence. Is that how he truly felt about Bulma? Is this how Vegeta valued their friendship? By placing the blame of Tarble's almost-death upon him? Jaw slackening at the inner revelation, Goku's fingers curled into fists at his waist. With narrowed eyes, he nodded numbly before gritting out, "Fine. If that's how things are going to be, maybe I will go see Bulma."

Storming past Vegeta and not sparing the man another glance, he called over his shoulder, "Tell Tarble I stopped by."

Vegeta released a heavy exhale once the sound of Kakarot's footsteps receded, and he hung his head. Stalking over to the uncomfortable waiting room sofa, he plopped down whilst swiping a tray of now-cold food from the table. Slumping his shoulders in defeat, he leaned against the cushions, closing his eyes as he thanked the Kai for the strength they bestowed upon him.

* * *

A drenched suit jacket covered messy hair as two forearms propped it above its figure, protecting the man from the onslaught of rain pouring from the heavens above. The burly guard rushed toward the main entrance, his gaze fixated on the door.

Two, large feet galumphed through puddles, splashing water onto the ends of his beige slacks. Whimpering from the cold, he stopped before the tall door, rapping his knuckles against the finished wood.

A few moments passed, and nobody came to the door.

His knuckles danced across the door once more, stopping once he heard a shrill voice crying: "Coming!"

The brass knob rattled before warmth enveloped his body, his stomach growling as the delicious aromas of dinner wafted into his nostrils.

"Oh, Honey!" the blonde with a pink apron tutted, shaking her head with a frown. "What can I do for you? You look so, very hungry!"

"I am!" Goku exclaimed, grinning ear to ear before his expression became solemn. "I need to speak with Cyan..er, Bulma."

"You must be a friend! I'm Mrs. Brief, Bulma's mother," she politely greeted before stepping out of the doorway, pressing a petite hand to her mouth. "Get out of the rain! You must be cold to the bone! Here, come on in, I'll feed you - everyone's in the dining room!"

Goku released a puff of air, following closely behind the woman in front of him, staring at his surroundings in awe. Resting his hands behind the nape of his neck, Goku admired the photographs handing along the walls of the house, splayed in different positions and frames. Before he could pause and linger at the photograph of a young Bulma, a voice brought him from his stupor.

"Goku?"

Head whipping in the direction of his name, his eyes brightened at the sight of Bulma. However, his grin faltered slightly as his stare lingered at her belly, his heart fluttering within the confinements of his chest. Bulma looked as if she was about to burst!

It was then, that Goku understood.

Firing him was Vegeta's silent plea to protect Bulma - and...his baby?

"Bulma!"

The heiress's short arms embraced his torso as she cried, "I'm sorry! You and Chi-Chi aren't stupid...I'm sorry, so sorry…"

"Huh? Wha? Oh, Bulma! Don't be sorry!" Goku chirped, pulling the small woman away from him with a friendly smile. "Cheech'll be glad that you're alright," he brushed off her concern before glancing wearily down at her midsection, "...right?"

Bulma chortled lightly, rubbing her rounded belly with a nod. "Yeah," she whispered, grinning, "I'm alright. But...what brings you here?"

"I, er…" he scratched his hairline as the three Briefs looked at him, confused. Goku's gaze skitted across Doctor Brief, and he offered the man an apologetic nod before meeting Bulma's imploring stare. "I..uhm, need a job?"

Bulma blinked, surprised. "Did that asshole fire you?!"

Goku shook his head in denial, waving his hands in front of him defensively, "No! Vegeta didn't do that - it's not what you think. I just, er, wanted something new…"

Bulma's eyes narrowed suspiciously, crossing her arms beneath her swollen bust. "Uh-huh," she grunted, licking her lips. "I don't believe you, but...I think we have an opening for a new head of security, dontcha think, Dad?"

Doctor Brief looked up from his paper, startled before he chuckled. "Whatever you think is best, Pumpkin. It is your company now, afterall."

The CEO groaned, massaging her temple with two fingers as she grumbled, "Don't remind me." Reopening her eyes, they sparkled as she nodded, "You always have a place here, Goku."

"Really?!" Goku exclaimed, ecstatic as his lips spread into a large grin like butter. "That's great, oh boy! I can't wait to tell Chi, she'll be so excited..."

Goku continued to ramble, and Bulma kindly nodded her head, attempting to make sense of his words. Is he talking so fast that I can't understand him? Bulma sharply inhaled as a sharp pain shot down her spine, and she exhaled a hiss.

"...and she will be so excited to be an Aunt!" Goku concluded with a grin, meeting Bulma's gaze. His cheesy smile immediately faltered. "Bulma?!"

Bulma was on her knees, all emotion vacant from her face as she whimpered lightly. A single hand clutched the table and the other, her stomach. Below her, she sat in a pool of watery blood. She bit on her lower lip, suppressing a cry that wanted to flee her mouth and her teary eyes met Goku's.

"Goku...your first job is to get me to the hospital...now!"

* * *

"You are now a liability, you fool!"

"M-master Frieza, I-I was sure of it - he was dead!"

"Well," the shaggy-haired blonde's voice bounced off the walls of the dank room. Dozens of his men stood around the duo, encasing them within a tight circle. "Your target was and is not dead, Dodoria."

The bald, obese man stifled a cry as he pulled back from the overlord. However, with his hands cuffed to a tall, black pole in the center of the room, his mobility was limited. The chains linked to the rusted cuffs rattled as Dodoria attempted to scamper away from the tyrant, but to no avail, he remained glued within the same perimeter as the mercenary.

"L-Lord Frieza...have mercy!"

The assassin clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth before he tutted, shaking his head. "You were sloppy, Dodoria. I only ask of one thing," he sighed, cocking his gun to the side before grinning ferally. A pointer-finger tugged at the trigger, and the room was illuminated with a faint orange spark for a split second before the room was black once more. "Don't be sloppy."

Dodoria's body fell to the cracked concrete with a sickening thud, blood pouring from the bullet wound engrained in the side of his skull.

Twirling the gun around a finger, Frieza released a small cackle, the scar on his cheek lifting upward. "Let this be a lesson to all of you!" he roared, spinning around to face the silenced men, "Do as I say and be successful, or die."

* * *

Beads of salty water lined her hairline before dribbling down her slick face, splattering against the blue hospital gown wrapped around her small figure. Pieces of aqua locks glued to her face and her chest rose and fell as her lungs sucked in a plentiful amount of oxygen.

Two, tired arms cradled the newborn, his head resting against her bosom. She hummed inaudibly with a faint smile, staring at the small perfection with pure adoration. Bulma ran a nimble finger across his chubby cheek, her heart swooning as he smacked his lips, his eyes peeping open for a fraction of a second before closing once more.

A quiet giggle escaped her lips as she whispered, "Yeah, kid. Tell me about it, labour is pretty hard, huh?"

With her forefinger and thumb, the CEO counted each stubby toe and finger, softly murmuring a count of each body part. Sighing, her eyelids drooped with exhaustion before she leaned over, pressing her lips gently against his fine tufts of lavender hair.

"Oh, Honey!" a woman's voice gushed, causing Bulma to turn her head in the direction of the voice. Of course, it was none other than her ditzy mother with her hands pressed to her cheeks, eyes opened wide. "He's precious!"

Behind her, her father stood with a smile and Goku lurked over them, glancing down at an electronic device causing Bulma to scowl. "Goku," she huffed, her eyes narrowing in annoyance as his attention was redirected toward her, "are you seriously on your phone?"

 _To: Vegeta._

 _Eight pounds, twenty-one inches long. Healthy baby boy._

"Huh? Wha? No," he grinned unconvincingly before shoving the cellphone within his pocket. He cowered under Bulma's fiery gaze and he held his hands in defense. "Sorry! It was Cheech!"

The heiress rolled her eyes as the tall, lanky man sashayed over to her, crouching down near the bedside. He placed his strong forearms upon the mattress, resting his chin atop his bare arms. Grinning ear to ear, he glanced at the baby. "Gee, maybe Cheech and I's baby will be best friends with yours when he's born!"

Bulma's eyes bucked, her lips parting open as she stared at Goku in shock. "Chi-Chi's knocked up?!"

"Yuh-huh!" Goku chirped with a large, goofy grin. "Three months now!"

Her blue eyes burned with anger as her nostrils flared, and she gritted, "And you didn't tell me because?"

Goku immediately began to panic, and his mind whirred quickly. In hopes to avoid Bulma's potential rage, he stuttered, "Uh...What are ya gonna name him?"

Bulma paused, her breathing hitching slightly as her eyes redirected their gaze to the baby boy. Knitting her brows together in deep thought, nobody within the room dared to disturb her concentration. Finally, after a few moments of contemplating, a smile stretched her lips as she whispered, "Trunks…"

The small babe wrapped his small fist around a finger, and she beamed before repeating, "Trunks Vegeta Ouji-Brief."

* * *

 **So, what'd y'all think?**

 **Are we getting stoked for the sequel? I know I am! (Soooo much better!) Follow me on tumblr under the same name: daughterofvegeta**

 **Until next time!**

 **DoVxx**


	16. Chapter 16

**And, here we go folks! Enjoy!**

Disclaimer: I don't own anything of DB, DBZ, or GT - everything belongs to Akira Toryiama.

* * *

Early spring blossoms danced with the brisk breeze, rustling through an unruly-haired man's ebony locks. Two enormous feet padded lightly against the pavement, a skip hidden in each step. The tall man's eyes were shut tightly, his cheeks lifted as his puckered lips whistled a happy tune.

Goku's fingers tightened around the cushioned rail connected to the large stroller. Wheels rattled against the bumpiness of the sidewalk, and the man reopened his eyes with a grin plastered across his face.

Recently, the baby had turned two months old and life at Capsule Corporation was as hectic as ever. The demand for new creations and productions of the labs increased ten fold since Bulma's return back from her disappearance. Because of this, Bulma began her day today on the...wrong side of the bed.

In simple words, Goku decided to avoid her wrath by taking the baby out for a walk - only to, of course, intentionally enter another CEO's grumpy atmosphere.

He took a right at the fork in the trail, following closely alongside the grassy ridge leading into a rippling lake. The water reflected the clouds streaming across the sky, sun rays bouncing off of the clear waters.

Goku sighed happily as he eventually came to a stop before a cedar bench where a man sat, a scowl imprinted on his face.

The flame-haired man was tapping his Oxford shoe against the dew dropped grass blades, his arms crossed over his chest. The glass encasing the small hands of his watch glimmered in the faint glow of day as he growled. "About damned time, Kakarot," he snapped, his closed eyelids fluttering open. "What took you so long?"

He paused, his gaze flickering down to the tightly wrapped bundle hidden in the stroller. Two pudgy, sock-covered feet stuck out from the fuzzy blanket wrapped around his form. A grey marshmallow jacket covered his chest, the hood wrapping around his head, covering tufts of lavender hair. The babe blinked with a happy smile, babbling.

"Sorry, 'Geta. I hafta walk slow with this one - last time I went for a run I accidentally crashed into a fire hydrant 'cause I wasn't looking."

Vegeta rolled his eyes with a huff, grunting before he mused, "Hn. It won't be a surprise then when you give your brat a brain defect."

"I guess it's a good thing my son hasn't been born yet." Goku released a deep chuckle as he sat down upon the bench a foot away from the well-dressed man. Silently, he unbuckled the small babe within the stroller before pulling him out, holding him closely to his chest before turning toward Vegeta with a cheeky smile. Without warning, Goku pushed the child into Ouji's chest, causing the stern man to catch the baby out of reflex.

Trunks lifted his hands into the air as his eyes grew wide. Who was this man staring at him?!

Vegeta's breath hitched and his throat became dry. His fingers twitched around the small lump within his hands, and he held the little human at arm's length, a scowl on his face. Was he…? Oh Kami, he was holding his child! Was there a right way to hold a baby?

The eldest within the trio frowned, his face turning sour as he stared at the blue eyes that reflected the babe's matriarch. Vegeta cocked his head to the side questioningly, not allowing for his face to show pride in the child that babbled playfully within his grasp.

Vegeta raised a reluctant hand to the baby's hood before pulling it down, causing the babe to stop smacking his pouty lips.

Both heirs stared wordlessly, scrutinizing the other under intense gazes. Ebony orbs clashed with periwinkle, both glimmering with interest.

Finally, Vegeta sneered with a scoff, "Purple hair? Goddamned that woman and her pathetic genetic make up!"

It was then that the child began to wail, and Vegeta realized he had screwed up.

"Kamifuckingdamnit!" Vegeta hissed under his breath as his eyes widened in astonishment, his body tensing up as he stared helplessly at the wailing child. Fat, salty tears streamed down his ruddy cheeks as Vegeta swore loudly once more, "What the hell am I supposed to do to get this...this thing to shut up?!"

"Vegeta!" Goku chided with a frown, wagging a finger in front of his companion's face. "Don't swear in front of the baby!"

"What are you, his mother?!" he bellowed in return, his eyes twitching in annoyance. A vein bulged on Vegeta's temple as the cries rose a decibel. "He's what? Two months, for fuck's sake! He has no idea what I'm saying!"

Goku crossed his arms over his chest with a motherly stare, shaking his head disapprovingly. "He knows, and he'll use all the language when he's older!"

"Yes," Vegeta huffed sarcastically, his nose wrinkling with distaste as he instinctively brought the boy toward his chest. "I'm sure he'll long remember this particular moment."

In the midst of their "lover's" spat, the two men did not realize that the high-pitched screams had ceased. Instead, ten small fingers laced themselves within Vegeta's fiery mane while Trunks gurgled. Trunks smiled happily with a giggle, drool dribbling down his chin and splattering against Vegeta's straight nose.

Vegeta paused, his eyes going cross-eyed as he observed the slobber with disgust. "What in the blazes-"

Then, the fingers curled within the ebony locks before tugging at the roots, hard.

"Fuck!" Vegeta hissed in bewilderment, tears stinging the corner of his eyes as he attempted to pry the fingers from his mane. His success was limited, however, and it only served for the babe's grip to tighten. "Damnit, brat!"

Goku threw his head back before he began laughing uncontrollably, his signature grin imprinted on his face. "Aw, it just means he likes you! He does it to Bulma all the time, and don't worry, she swears like a sailor, too!"

He turned his attention toward the small boy who babbled happily with a vacant expression. Vegeta's eyes hardened as his ex-lover's name was mentioned, a frown tugging his lips. A jaw muscle flexed angrily and fingers twitched with irritation. The woman who had betrayed him, who had captured pieces of his heart, forming them into an unknown emotion he had not experienced since he was a boy. Together, they had created the small, happy bundle within his arms.

Only one of them deserved the child.

He leaned over, pushing the babe inside the stroller. Grabbing the tough straps, he looped Trunks' arms around them before clasping the two metal teeth into the buckle. Before the man could pull away, small fingers gripped one of his large ones, causing Vegeta to pause.

He stared into the eyes of the baby that he sired, and a few of heartstrings tugged within his heart. The eyes belonged to Bulma; their intensity and colour. The innocent gaze penetrated his soul, and Vegeta had to force himself to look away, pulling his finger from Trunks' grasp.

Standing abruptly from the bench, Vegeta turned his back toward the two, grunting. "I have business to attend to in the next hour. I must return to the office."

Goku nodded, his lips pouting as he released a sigh. "Alright," he responded sadly, wiping his sweaty palms against his denim jeans. "I won't tell anyone about meeting you, today. I just thought you should see your son, even if Bulma thinks differently. She'll come around, you know."

Vegeta snorted, but remained silent nonetheless as he shoved his hands within his pockets, willing himself to move forward. Little did the CEO know, a deep connection was created between the father-son duo, and as he walked away, he spared a final, fleeting gasp toward his heir, his heart wrenching.

 _Farewell, my son._

* * *

The ticks of the clock broke the silence within the room, each click adding another level of tension to permeate throughout the pristine room. Two men stood side-by-side, their focus upon the concentrating man that paced the wooden floor.

Suddenly, the man paused, spinning upon his heel before facing his utmost loyal men, a scowl implanted on his lips. "Zarbon," he spoke sweetly, his red eye flitting to the green-haired gunman, "I want you to hunt after your target tonight, yes?"

"Yes, M'Lord," Zarbon responded monotonously, his eyes wavering with self-doubt before they glazed over, offering no other emotions. How was he going to slaughter a broken family, alone?

"Ginyu, I wish for you to prep the building tonight and give me an entertaining show in the morning. Do you understand?"

"I understand perfectly, Lord Frieza."

"Excellent, boys," Frieza cooed, the corners of his lips turning upward into a crooked smile. "Let's begin."

* * *

"Thank Kami!"

Releasing an exasperated sigh, Bulma walked inside her home. She dropped her bags to the floor while in the process of bolting toward the kitchen. Her blue locks were as frazzled as her nerves, and she muttered, "I need a smoke."

Today was the worst day a CEO could possibly ever experience. It seemed that nobody — with the exception of herself, of course — could get anything accomplished correctly. How hard was it to send off signed papers to other corporations? Was it truly difficult to fix a small bug within the computer system before it caused a larger malfunction? Or, was it difficult to teach the new interns how to create Capsules?!

For Kami's sake, she huffed inwardly, a cigarette hanging limply from her ruby lips. Today, she did not even have the energy to bother walking out to the patio — oh no, tonight would be a night where she would soak in her luxurious tub. Capsules are just the foundation of Capsule Corporation…it's not as if it's in the name of the company or anything!

Grumbling to herself, a puff of smoke escaped the opened corners of her mouth before she sucked on the filtered end, hard. Closing her eyes with a small moan, she leaned against the granite island, rubbing two fingers between her knitted brows. Why did being a CEO have to be so much work? Kami, how she wished she could just dump the company on her barely two month old.

Chuckling at the thought, she murmured to herself, "Never thought I'd be as excited to age and have him grow up as I am now." Shaking her head, Bulma leaned over the counter to smash the ashy tip of her joint into a ceramic ashtray. Releasing a stream of smoke from her lips, she shuffled toward the kitchen sink, pumping soap into her hands and rubbing them together.

She smiled at the thought of seeing her little baby — there was no other way to end a terrible day but to see her own child that loved her unconditionally, no matter what! Now that she considered her surroundings, the house was awfully quiet — she knew her parents were at another charity event for the remainder of the night, for Kami knows what.

Perhaps Goku was in the nursery with Trunks upstairs? After all, it was late evening and the kid was most likely tuckered out and fast asleep within his handmade crib. Humming to herself Bulma dried her wet hands with a red dish towel before discarding it atop the counter carelessly.

With a skip added to her step, the heiress giddily hopped on each step of the staircase, a smile etched onto her face. What was better than seeing her sleeping boy? Nothing — with the exception of some much needed rest.

 _Gee, and we all know that I'll be getting that sometime soon,_ Bulma's subconscious thought with a snark while the imaginary, inner diva rolled her eyes. "Now, listen to me, talkin' to myself," she chuckled, "I must be going crazy."

The florescent lights above her flickered slightly, and a gentle breeze swept inside the room. "Ugh, Goku!" she huffed, "You kept the windows open again? Sheesh!"

An indignant 'mph' escaped her lips as she rubbed the undersides of her arms in hopes to create friction. Shivering, Bulma listened as her footsteps bounced eerily down the pale-yellow walls of the corridor. Something felt…amiss.

She frowned with dismay, but shrugged off the feeling of creeping despair. "It's nothing, Bulma," she mumbled reassuringly under her breath, the heels of her sneakers padding against the floor in a heel to toe motion. "It's just all in your genius head…" she chuckled as she turned down into the next wing, her eyes twinkling as her gaze landed on the slightly ajar door leading to her son's room.

Ajar?

His door was never ajar.

A shudder rolled down her spine as a chill creeped past the nape of her neck, causing her pouty lips to tug into a frown.

Arriving in the doorway, she gently pushed the wooden slab forward and slipped inside the the room. The teal walls and toy strewn floor enveloped her, welcoming her back within the sanctuary of her crazy home life.

She gasped slightly as the cool, evening breeze wafted past the open window. Bulma marched over the the fluttering white curtains with an annoyed growl before muttering, "Damnit, Goku-san, what have I told you about keeping the window open when it gets cold?!" Bulma untangled herself from the drapes that wrapped around her small figure while snapping the window shut with a huff.

Cool shudders rolled down Bulma's spine as her eyes began to dart around the room with caution. Evening shadows swirled around her feet, threatening to suck her in the ground and eat her whole. Her eyes met the black beads of somber stuffed animals, and their beady eyes penetrated her soul as they watched her every move. Her back faced the door, and suddenly, she was too afraid to turn.

The muscles within her back tensed and her lips parted, breath escaping her in slow, shallow pants. The curtain brushed her back, causing her to stumble backward with fright, a small squeal escaping her.

Bulma's head snapped in the direction of the mobile hanging above the crib a gasp of terror fleeing her lips as she peered through the wooden pegs. The mattress was empty. Shrieking, the heiress rushed toward the crib, her hands slamming against the railing, her eyes widened with a newfound horror. Where was Trunks?!

Hot, sticky breath cascaded down the pores of her neck, causing them to pucker with fear. A deep chuckle resounded throughout the room before a shrill wail escaped a child, "Looking for this, hm, Ms. Brief? He just woke from his nap."

Spinning quickly on her heel with her hair whipping at her flushed cheeks, a scream peeled from her lips at the sight she was met with. "No - Trunks! Put him down!"

The intruder held Trunks by the scruff of his neck, a gun coolly placed against the soft crown of his head. "Allow me to introduce myself," he chuckled, standing tall and proud as he clicked the gun into place. "I am Zarbon, and I'm here to kill your precious son."

"What?!" she choked, her eyes widening with despair while holding both of her hands up in defense. Her gaze flickered to Trunks before returning to Zarbon's cruel, wicked smirk. The world surrounding her paused, and she could no longer hear the rumbling of semi-trucks and cars thundering outside her home. There was no longer blaring horns, or the soft hum of the air conditioner.

Instead, it was all replaced by her pulse and blood rushing past her ears and her heart pummelling her chest. Bulma's voice came out in a cracked whisper as tears brimmed her lower lids, her lower lip quivering, "Who sent you?"

Zarbon released a chuckle and flipped his braid behind his shoulder, causing emerald fly away hairs to tickle his slick forehead. "I don't see how that could matter to you right now," he stated coolly, his shoulders rolling with harsh chortles.

Her stomach clenched when he rested his fingertip against the trigger, water blurring her vision. "Please," she whispered, taking slow, cautious steps toward him, "please don't hurt my baby."

"You think you are being coy?!" his smooth, baritone voice snapped, his nose wrinkling with frustration. "Stop advancing!"

Bulma jumped, startled at his accusation and her foot slammed down atop a stuffed animal, and it squealed with distress. A recording of _"Twinkle Twinkle Little Star"_ played as she held her hand up defensively, innocently batting her lashes, "I'm not advancing."

"Please," Zarbon spat disbelievingly as Trunks' wails began raising in decibels. He growled as he glanced at the child within his grasp, giving him a slight shake. "Take another step, and he's dead."

She froze, wondering why the man did not pull the trigger. If Zarbon came to kill Trunks and herself, why did he not do it already? _Is there a way I can coax him out of this, or distract him?_ she thought, wrapping her arms around her midsection. Blue eyes met pale, malice filled hazel ones and she trembled violently before uttering, "How can you kill an innocent baby?"

Zarbon's tightened his grip around the back of Trunks' shirt. He glared at the heiress, his upper lip tugging back and baring pearly white teeth. "Because it is an order from my Lord, and I will fulfill it," a raspy hum fled his luscious, thin lips as he added, "if you want to blame someone, you should blame his sire."

Slyly, she moved forward far enough the he was within arm's reach, but his statement glued her to the floor. The fine aqua hairs above her eyes knitted together in confusion as her tears gleamed with candor. What was Zarbon indicating - that Vegeta was at fault for this mix up? Did he truly loathe her and Trunks so much that he wanted to erase them completely? "What do you mean?"

He threw his head back and guffawed before cocking his head to the side. "Let's have a quick summary of your son's final bedtime story, shall we?" he snickered, eyes wild and crazed. "Good ol' grandfather Senior did not pay up, therefore he died. My Lord then went to Juniour asking for his payment, and he did not receive it. And so, everyone dies," he grinned wolfishly, his thumb clocking the gun into place, before cackling, "the end."

The back of her throat dried, and she forced herself to swallow. Her fingers twitched at her sides as she trembled with an unidentifiable emotion. Was it fear? Fury? Anxiety? However, the next few seconds flashed before her eyes so quickly, it no longer mattered.

Bulma's hand flew to his, pushing the firearm upward toward the ceiling before she lunged toward him with a snarl. _Trunks,_ her mind frantically thought as the trio slammed forcefully into the nearest wall. The heavy gun clattered to the floor from Zarbon's grasp, skidding a few feet away. The baby was squished between their chests, still locked within his grasp and Bulma released a loud cry of fury.

Her fingernails clawed at Zarbon's forearms, peeling the smooth skin away and drawing blood. He gave a loud shout that echoed off of the walls, and he shoved Bulma away from him with a snarl.

She staggered away, wheezing for precious air before ramming into him once more. _I need to get Trunks!_ A growl ripped through her voice box as her fingers clasped around his braided hair, giving it a violent tug.

Zarbon hissed between clenched teeth, his grip loosening on the child which caused Bulma to steal Trunks from his hold.

Bulma wounded her hand within the three-strand braid before giving it a final pull and releasing the locks. Strands of green littered her sweaty palm as she staggered backward toward the window, pressing Trunks tightly against her bosom.

The gunman's loose hair whipped at his cheeks before he stumbled toward the pistol, swiping it from the floor. He held the gun with one hand, pointing it in their direction while breathing heavily.

Dried, crusty trails of tears stained her cheeks as she shrunk into the curtains, shivering violently. Her eyes flickered toward the crimson dripping onto the floor from his forearms, "Please!"

He clicked the safety button out of place, his nostrils flaring with each exhale. "Say goodbye, bitch."

Bulma swivelled on her heel, facing her back toward Zarbon with her eyes clenched shut. Recoiling, she crouched beside the window releasing a wail as the sound of a gunshot rang throughout her ears.

The bullet never came.

Zarbon glanced down at his chest, his eyes widening at the sight of a bullet hole pierced through the center of his chest. Thick crimson oozed from the wound at a rapid pace, and he inhaled sharply, blood gurgling in the back of his throat. The firearm slipped from his fingers as his knees connected with the ground, and he released a bloody hack. His gun slipped from his hands, inches away from Bulma's feet.

Prying her eyelids open, Bulma turned in the direction of the gunman. Bile tickled the back of her throat at the gory sight, her heart pounded furiously against her chest as she gasped, "Goku, oh my Kami!"

The unruly-haired man stood tall, visibly shaking as he stared vacantly at the firearm within his hands. He pointed the barrel toward the floor, turning his head away from his fallen target in disgust. His face was twisted with agony as he slipped the gun inside its holster before pressing his thin lips together.

He just shot someone.

A choked cry fled her torn lips as she rushed toward her bodyguard, wrapping an arm around him tightly. She felt his arm wrap around her waist, and she trembled violently within their embrace, repeating in a sob, "Oh my Kami, thank you."

"Are you okay? What happened?" he ushered, pulling Bulma away and staring down at her. "Where did he come from?" he questioned, dragging his eyes back toward the culprit.

"I-I don't know!" Bulma cried, bouncing on the balls of her feet in order to calm Trunks. "He just appeared behind me, and…" shrugging she pulled away from Goku's grasp, staring at Zarbon as he released howls of agony. Cautiously, with Goku in tow, she neared Zarbon, and her orbs clashed with his. "What did Vegeta have to do with this?"

Zarbon chuckled, blood dribbling down his clefted chin as he offered her a red-stained smile. "He has everything to do with this," he choked, falling onto his side with another phlegm filled cackle.

"What does that mean?!" Bulma shrieked, balling a hand into a fist with fury. The edges of her eyes burned with hot tears and rage as she released a scream. As she lunged toward the fallen man, Goku wrapped a strong arm around her waist.

"Bulma, stop this! You won't get answers this way!"

"Let me go, Goku!" she cried, tears dribbling down her slim nose as her nostrils flared with each, strained exhale. "What the hell is going on, you sick fuck?! Why were Trunks and I attacked?!" She was hyperventilating now, her pupils dilating as she bellowed, "TELL ME!"

He chuckled as he watched Bulma struggle within Goku's tight grasp, causing Trunks to begin wailing once more. His eyelids began to flutter shut, his eyes losing focus as he grinned, "You know," he rasped, his chest rising and falling with slow, ragged breaths. "I'm almost envious of Juniour - he's going to go out with more of a bang."

Zarbon's lifted head fell limp against the floor, and his chest ceased expanding and contracting. His eyes were rolled in the back of his head, his lips remaining stretched in a faint smile.

"We need to call the police."

Bulma's worried gaze met Goku's as she attempted to calm her breathing, and she shook her head. "No," she croaked, wrapping a hand in his red splotched shirt, "Vegeta. We need to get Vegeta."

"Bulm-"

"We need to get to him first!" Bulma snapped, forcefully pushing Goku away from her before striding toward the door. "Hurry up! Something bad is going to happen - don't tell me you can't feel it too!"

Goku gulped, hard. He nodded numbly as he gave a fleeting gaze toward Zarbon's lifeless form before following after Bulma, a sense of foreboding rolling down his spine.

Something was terribly wrong.

* * *

 **What's going to happen?! You'll find out next chapter! And then? The sequel...**

HEY! So, you should join the Google+ community that I am a moderator for: The Prince and The Heiress! You can also find us on tumblr, and our website. Please, please, please check it out! There's cool events that we host, and right now we're doing an "Annual Awards" event where you get to vote for your favorite author or fan artist. VOTING ENDS ON TUESDAY! So hurry, and vote! (I'll post the final chapter sooner...;))

Until next time!

DoV


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: I don't own DB, DBZ, GT, or DBS. All rights are to Akira Toryiama and Toei Animating.  
**  
 **Posted: 10-31-2016** ****

 **Here we are folks...the last chapter. It's seriously been a fun ride!**

 **I've been nominated as the one of the "best up and coming" authors as well as a nomination for my one-shot, Forbidden Union. I would really appreciate if you would go to The Prince and the Heiress Google + community, or on tumblr (by the same name) and vote for me! Voting ends in two weeks, so please check it out and vote before then!**

 **To clarify a little on this chapter: There is a time skip of a few months at the end of the chapter, but only a few months to the end of summer. Also, you will all hopefully catch on to the title of the story...it corresponds to the article that Bulma writes (so the tenses will change).**

 **On top of that...I will be posting the first chapter of the sequel, soon. I am about seven chapters in, and just needing to work on some editing. Prior to posting, I will update this story with a quick Author's Note with more information on the story, and its title. Until then...this is the last you will hear from me.**

 **Happy Halloween!**

 **If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to ask me in a PM or review, and I will get back to you.**

 **Until the sequel, guys!**

* * *

Thick, dark cumulonimbus clouds stretched across the sky, thunder rolling in the distance. Droplets of water fell from the murky sky, splattering gently against the windshield. The lights of Downtown East City began flickering on, glimmering in dusk's wake.

Trunks kicked his gray sock covered feet in his carrier, fussing lightly about the strap wrapped around his chubby chest. His bright, periwinkle eyes observed the rain splashing around the car. With a pout, and his fingers curled into small fists. He babbled happily, bubbles foaming from his lips as he giggled.

The engine of the car revved loudly as it sped the occupants within it down several streets, interweaving through other cars.

Bulma's hand clutched the grab handle, her knuckles turning white as she urged the driver, "Faster!"

"Bulma!" Goku exclaimed, shifting the sticky clutch down into fourth gear, "We're already going super fast - not to mention in rush hour! There's only so much we can do, especially since we're driving Penelope!"

The heiress grit her teeth, grinding them against one another with frustration but made no further comment. She ducked her head slightly, her eyes focusing on the tall skyscrapers surrounding them. Licking her lips in anticipation, pins pricked her heart as she sighed before murmuring, "What do you think he meant?"

"I...don't know," Goku admitted, a frown tugging his lips as he glanced in Bulma's direction. He redirected his attention toward the road once more, drumming his fingers against the ripped leather of the steering wheel, deep in thought. What had Zarbon meant? Why did he come to attack Bulma and Trunks? He felt guilty for not finding them sooner - he thought Trunks would be safe alone for fifteen minutes while he went to get a sandwich! Sighing, he finally shrugged, "Whatever it was...it wasn't good."

Bulma numbly nodded, swallowing hard as she released the passenger bar and wrung her fingers together nervously. She squirmed within her seat as her heart attempted to lurch out of her chest. What were they going to do to Vegeta? Was there a hidden agenda by a secret man? In the distance, she spotted the triangular, glass topped building and her heart wrenched violently within her chest. "Oh, Vegeta…"

From within the cluster of buildings, there was a blinding flash, causing Goku to slam on the brakes. Hundreds of cars surrounding them abruptly stopped bumper to bumper as a shock wave rolled the pavement beneath each rubbery tire.

Wheezing, Bulma's seatbelt tightened against her chest and her skull snapped against the headrest behind her. Squeezing her eyes tightly for a moment, she released a moan as she felt Goku's protective arm bar shift away from her chest. Blinking the bleariness away from her eyes, she stared blankly at the buildings ahead for a few moments.

Whipping around to face Trunks, she reached a hand to feel that he was all in one piece. No screaming, she thought with a sigh, grasping a small, chubby hand within hers. Shaking her head, she forced the daze from her mind and willed herself to focus on what happened.

A billow of smoke lined the skyline, followed by a shocking boom! that rocked Penelope side to side. Glancing toward the source of ash, Bulma released a terrified scream before rushing to unlatch her belt.

Goku's eyes widened at the sight, his stomach plummeting to the pits of his stomach. "Oh my Kami…"

The world around her was in mute as she threw the belt over her shoulder before exiting the rusted vehicle. "No…no..." she murmured, clutching the top of the passenger door to remain balance. " _NO_!"

Pushing away from the car, she staggered forward before rushing toward the toppling building. The once tall and proud standing Ouji Enterprises was now crumbling, toppling to the ground in plumes of ash. Cars swerved left and right to avoid Bulma as she ran, the wind whipping at her face. The fringed ends of her hair whipped at her cheeks as she wove between cars, her thighs rubbing together as adrenaline pushed through her circulatory system.

Car horns blared around her as she inhaled a thick cloud of ash, causing her to release a hack. Covering her airways with the nook of her elbow, she pushed forward, determined to make it to the burning skyscraper that was her lover's company. Her eyes blurred with tears as she took a sharp left, forcing her way through the dozens of onlookers who stood in utter shock, screaming, yelling.

Heat radiated around her as she reached the building in close proximity, watching as tires of fire trucks squealed to a stop before the tower. Several men whipped out of the crimson trucks before some rushed inside while others prepared hoses.

The rubber bottoms of her shoes slid to a stop, creating a slight burning sensation beneath her wool sock. Bile rose in the back of her throat as hot, crackling wind erupted in her eardrums, tears streaming down her face. She shook her head disbelievingly, Zarbon's voice ringing throughout her mind: "'I'm almost envious of Juniour. He's going to go out with more of a _bang_.'"

Cherry red flames leapt from the window of the building, kissing the sky. Bulma's knees felt weak as she released a sharp cry, muffling her scream with a hand. As she began to crumple to the cracked road, a strong forearm caught her waist, and she collapsed into the embrace.

Goku held firmly onto his blue-haired friend while in the other hand, he held Trunks closely to his chest. His ebony eyes darkened at the sight of Ouji Enterprises, smoke lodging behind his Adam's apple.

Bulma's hand limply fell away from her lips as tears streamed her face. Vegeta. He was inside that building. He was burning into nothing. Her lover, her friend, her prince. He was deteriorating to nothing but ash.

Empty. She felt her heart being ripped from her chest and thrown into the fire alongside her other half. A cry of despair fled her quivering lips before she wailed, "VEGETA!" Thrashing within Goku's arms, fat droplets of water leaked from the corners of her eyes as she his grip tightened around her. Bulma clawed at his strong forearms, shrieking until her throat became raw and dry.

Nothing.

There was nothing to compare to this pain.

Her body shook violently as her fingernails dug into his flesh, sobs wracking her thin form. "I forgive you," she choked through clenched teeth, swaying weakly in Goku's arms. The muffled sounds surrounding her returned in focus as she dragged her eyes back to the vivid sight of pure death, crying, "I'm sorry...I'm so sorry, Vegeta!"

Goku tensed when he hoisted Bulma from the ground, whispering words of broken comfort into her ear. Her wails quieted, but she did not pause repeating her anguished apologies as she turned toward Trunks, enveloping him in a motherly embrace.

Not knowing what else to do, Goku placed a large hand on the small of her back, turning her away from the debris of ash. "C'mon," he murmured, pushing Bulma forward, "you shouldn't be here."

She sobbed into his lavender tufts as she inhaled deeply, shaking like a leaf as she murmured, "You're all that I have left of him. I'm sorry, Vegeta…I love you, I love you..."

* * *

Across the city inside an abandoned warehouse, a scarred man stood, staring out of the dilapidated warehouse. He shivered, as if an icy pleasure had replaced his spine. The layers of leather that bound him together could not protect his skin against the deathly cold air enveloping his entire body.

The glass cracked and shattered in some wooden-paned squares. The sky casted a ghoulish glow on the skyscrapers wrapped around by smoke in the distance. Ash swirled and twisted within the already dark sky, adding a deeper tone of murky gray.

Beneath, floorboards creaked under the weight of his boots as he bounced on his heels with excitement. Cobwebs covered the corner of the doors, tiny spiders threading toward their prey. The ware-houses' walls were covered in black decay, representing neglect and abandonment.

The house was fit for kings and queens of the supernatural - just like him.

A musk, dank odor creeped into his nose, and he inhaled deeply, relishing the scent of death. The old factory was surrounded in a deaf silence with the exception of his soft breathing and intermittent creaks and moans. Emerald green mold dotted the ceiling in clusters, evident of rain seeping past the roof.

The door begrudgingly opened behind him, and he released a raspy chuckle as his lackey's voice rang out, "The job is done."

"Excellent, Ginyu," he purred in response, his bionic eye glowing in the dark. He listened as Ginyu's shadow lurked inside the room, passing the overturned moldy sofa and chairs. Holding his wine glass toward the grime-covered window, Frieza's scarred lip turned upward as he cackled with glee, "Look at the firework display - it's simply marvelous!"

Ginyu nodded before agreeing, "It is a beloved sight, m'Lord."

The two exchanged no more words as Frieza's cruel laughter bounced off the walls of the empty, soulless room.

* * *

Grey suede heels clicked against the tiled floors of the spacious office before stopping abruptly before a desk. A small bundle of papers were slapped against the wooden workspace, and the woman impatiently tapped her toes against the grey slate.

Sitting behind the desk, the CEO lifted her head before quirking a brow toward her intruder. A soft chortle escaped her as a smirk curved her lips, "My, my, Cyan Noall? Or, might I say, Ms. Bulma Brief?" her thick accent questioned before she swiped her glasses from her nose, crooning, "What a surprise!"

Bulma rolled her baby blues at the woman's melodramatic reaction, and she pointed a well-manicured finger toward the stack of paper-clipped work atop the desk. "There's your story."

"Story?" Mrs. Chambers echoed, frowning as she drummed her blood-red fingertips against the arms of her chairs. "I recall wanting this story finished last August, Ms. Brief. I do not accept late work, so why bother turning it in?"

The heiress scoffed, rubbing her hands against her white pencil skirt as she scowled. "Because it's a story that you'll want to publish on Wall Street."

"Oh? And what makes you think that I will publish it?"

Bulma snorted, slamming both of her petite hands atop the table, leaning toward the dark-skinned female. "You'll publish it," she began through gritted teeth, her brows knitting together with frustration as she hissed, "because an undercover heiress wrote the story, and reveals her identity. Does that sound interesting enough?"

Mrs. Chambers pursed her nude colored lips, humming at the answer Bulma provided. She opened her mouth in response, but Bulma held her hand up, shaking her head.

"Save it - it was a rhetorical question, and you know it," she snapped while turning on her heel, swaying her hips as she stomped toward the exit. Pausing at the doorway, Bulma turned her head to the side with a small smile, "Whether you publish it is up to you, but you would be making a mistake if you did not."

As the door closed with a swift slam, the CEO's ebony orbs glanced down at the papers, debating. After a few moments and a defeated sigh, she grabbed her winged glasses and pushed them up the bridge of her bony nose. Snatching the papers from her desk, she leaned back in her leather chair, and read…

* * *

 _ **September Edition, year 777**_

 _ **The Prince of Wall Street**_

 _From a young age, I was taught that society was an enigma, one that was beautiful, yet so utterly dangerous. The world outside of my home belongs to not only the people living within it, but Mother Nature - the one person I was always told to never mess with. Perhaps this is because Mother Nature not only gives life, but she damns all men to death._

 _For the majority of my life, I was hidden deep in the shadows of my home, never experiencing the world outside the walls of Capsule Corporation. I had never entered the outside world alone until about a year ago, and even then I feared everyone and everything around me. Fleeing home was not easy - especially when the lives of my family were at stake - but I did what I had to do in order to ensure my parents' survival. I left my past behind me by replacing it with a completely new identity. I gave myself a fake name, a new apartment, and a completely different lifestyle. Along with this, I also received a job at Ouji Enterprises as Vegeta Ouji Juniour's secretary._

Bulma exited the elevator with a sigh, a hand brushing her bangs from her eyes. As her heels clicked against the pavement of the underground garage, her heart swelled with sorrow. Hopefully, the article would have made Vegeta proud.

She blinked, forcing the bleariness to disappear as she puttered her lips, blowing a raspberry as she neared Penelope. A faint smile stretched her lips as a black SUV pulled up beside her, the tinted passenger window rolling down revealing a pair of loveable brothers.

"Aye gurl," the long-haired Son spoke, lowering his voice a decibel as he waggled his brows. "Can I get yo' number?"

Rolling her eyes with a soft snort, she squinted her eyes as she responded mockingly, "No, Raditz, but can I get my baby from yo' car?"

Raditz threw his head back and released a guffaw as both of them failed to notice the driver exiting the car. "That depends - am I going to get something out of it?"

"Raditz, you're so mean!" Goku interjected with a pout as he rounded the passenger side of the car. He opened the seat to the back door, fiddling around with Trunks' car seat before picking up the carrier by the cushioned rail. "Here, Bulma. How'd it go? Will she publish it?"

Bulma shrugged, taking the heavy carrier from Goku's grasp. She smiled at Trunks and he squealed with delight, kicking his legs with excitement at the sight of his mother. Turning toward the mini-cooper, she leaned in, adjusting Trunks in the chewed up backseat.

"I dunno," she finally answered, pulling away from the car and resting her hand atop the driver's door. "I just...left. We'll know if she decides to publish it later. The story was more for me, anyways."

"Christ!" Raditz exclaimed as Penelope's door creaked under the weight Bulma was pressing against it. "Aren't you going to get a new car?!"

Bulma sputtered, her pink lips blowing a raspberry as she giggled, "Actually, Tarble called me a while back...he wants me to help him clean up Vegeta's penthouse with him, at some point. I think it'll be good for us. Maybe I'll steal one of his cars. Y'know-for memory's sake?"

Patting the cab of the car with care, Bulma grinned before sliding into her seat, jamming her keys into the ignition. "I'd love to stay...but I have somewhere I need to be before sunset."

Goku glanced at her worriedly, "Are you sure you want to go alone?"

The heiress offered Goku a small smile and nodded, "I'm sure."

 _God, I can remember entering his office for that interview with all my nerves out of place. How was I going to conceal my identity? Was there even a possibility that I would escape this interview alive? Fate was fickle when it came to this. Instead of recognizing me, Ouji was simply a president dealing with more important things than to be focusing on who his next secretary would be. Funnily enough, I came to discover that as intimidating as he was, Vegeta was just a lewd, cunning man who seemed to have a lot of spare time on his hands. Figuratively speaking, of course._

 _Somehow, I landed the job. In all honesty, I did not know whether to be grateful or distressed. It certainly stuck me into a tight spot where I had to be very careful with my identity. However, almost right away, I felt comfortable in Vegeta's presence. Now, do not get me wrong: he was the complete opposite of your typical prince charming - short in stature, a wild widow's peak trailing down his forehead, and boy, was he rude. Despite all that, Vegeta certainly battled my wits, and I absolutely loved it. I finally found somebody to challenge me, and I would not win every time - though, at those times I do not recall being very happy about losing._

Her nimble fingers drummed against her steering wheel impatiently as she gently pressed a foot against the brake, allowing the car to come to a stop. "Damn red lights…" she muttered, glancing in the mirror, peeking at her sleeping son.

The light flickered to a green hue, and she took a right, revving the engine lightly. She sighed as her eyes landed on a bay within the distance, glimmering in the amber light of the sun.

"Oh, Trunks…"

 _As the weeks past, our association with the other grew into something...more. Something spectacular. It was odd, our relationship. I still do not know how to feel about it. At times, it was exquisite, beyond the realms of passion and unyielding love. Other moments, we would be angered, too furious to look at one another in the eye. Vegeta aroused feelings within myself that I did not even know were there, and most importantly, he made me feel safe. I never fretted or worried about my identity; all I could focus on was him, and the sensations that were striking my heart. It is funny, is it not? How people - humans - can fall in love with the simplest, yet most complex things about a man or woman?_

 _Of course, let us be real here. I had no idea that I was in love with my employer, my rival. It was not as if I was going to admit that to myself! Who in their right mind would? I led myself to believe that I was riding a the tide of lust and desire for not only him, but the new world I was exploring. The world was at my fingertips with my identity hidden! Oh, I was such an idiot! How could I possibly allow myself to believe that I could remove myself from fate's plan?_

Humming to herself, Bulma rested Trunks against her hip, both of her hands cradling his bottom and lower back. With a smile, she stepped before a run-down, shabby shack with a straw roof. Knocking her knuckles against the surfboard counter, she called softly, "Hello? Ranjeet?"

"Eh?" a man with caramel skin coughed, shuffling toward the cash register before brightening at the sight of a costumer. "Aye! How can I help you?"

Bulma glanced at Trunks, chuckling as he scowled. Like father, like son, she mused before returning her attention toward the shop-keeper. "A hot dog and Coke, please."

 _Finally, I can admit I fell into life's sticky clutches and bound myself to loving another person besides myself. Nonetheless, this was hard to comprehend, at first. How would I be able to tell him about my true identity? Would he be forgiving, or would he loathe me just as he always had because I was seen as a threat, a rivalry? Eventually when the truth was exposed, I was not the one to tell him. My happiness immediately blew up in my face - only to be replaced by anger. I was aching because the man who made me feel secure and safe felt betrayed, and he tossed me aside. Secretly though, I think he cared for me on a level too deep for me to understand. He never voiced his love or approval for me, but I cannot bring myself to believe that he would have thought otherwise._

Sitting on the planks with a huff, the pier creaked and groaned beneath her weight. She adjusted Trunks within her hold, growling softly as he struggled within her grasp.

"Trunks!" she snapped in a warning tone, resting the crinkled paper bag beside her as she plopped Trunks within her lap. She rolled her eyes as he scooted around in her lap restlessly before finding a comfortable spot, babbling.

Blowing a flyaway from her eyes, she leaned over, tugging her heels from her feet with a grunt. Dropping them to the side, Bulma scooted toward the end of the pier and dipped her feet within the crisp water, shuddering slightly. Gooseflesh scattered across her skin as she reached for the bag, pulling out her hot, checker-wrapped meal.

Pulling the paper down and revealing half of the juicy dog, Bulma took a small bite. Mustard and finely chopped onions oozed from the bun before kissing the edges of her lips. With a sigh, Bulma cleaned the corners of her mouth with a lick.

Trunks stared at her in awe, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly agape.

Bulma giggled in response, cocking her head to the side. "I betcha wish you can eat now, huh?"

 _Vegeta was an honourable man; he kept his word in both business and his personal life. He carried himself with grace and pride, almost as if he were royalty - and not in the snobbish way so many people of the media depicted him to be. No, Vegeta was so much more, and he desired to offer more for East City. It was his city, and he only wanted the best for the citizens living within its borders. His dreams and visions for East City, however, will have to live through his younger brother, Tarble Ouji._

 _It is odd, is it not? How one day, you can be breathing, exploring. You can be free! Soaring like a bird through your life and enjoying the small, pointless moments with friends and family. You even get to experience and live through all four seasons of the year. The scalding summer heat that leads to crisp autumn days, jumping in leaves and going back to school. Then to the frigid winter nights with family, sharing stories by the fire and singing Christmas carols around the twinkling lights of a decorated tree. Shifting from the clouds to the sun, you reenter spring-watching the cherry blossoms soar through the winds that will eventually return you to summer. And then, the cycle repeats, and you have lived another year._

 _But, one day, it becomes your time to leave this existence, and explore another. Something bigger, something better! You get to move onto whatever there is - or is not. But, that is the thrilling part: you get to experience the exciting unknown as we other, very alive, and very mortal humans go about our daily lives, fearing the thought of death. I think that is what I force myself to think so I can reassure myself that Vegeta is alright, wherever he is now. He is no longer in pain, anymore._

The sun began to dip behind the mountains dividing East and West City. Hot, amber rays kissed her porcelain flesh as her skin relished the warmth radiating from the sun.

A gentle breeze rustled her oceanic locks as she sucked on the end of her fat straw, ingesting her carbonated drink. Bulma smacked her lips in satisfaction as she rested the drink beside her, before wrapping both of her hands around Trunks.

Bulma slowly rocked back and forth, her chest vibrating with a soft hum as she stared off into the distance. The sky was smeared a bright coral, with a pomegranate undertone to the splashes of orange dotting the skyline.

Sighing, Bulma pressed her lips to the crown of Trunks' head before whispering, "Hey, Baby." His periwinkle orbs met her sad blue ones, and she offered him a weak smile, her breath tickling his ear. "You're going to grow up intelligent and brave like me," she promised, bouncing her knees gently causing Trunks to squeal with delight. "...and honourable and strong like your father."

She rested her chin atop his lavender hair, staring off into the distance with water burning her lower lids. The sun drowned in the mountainous horizon, its rays of light glimmering within the darkness of the fading clouds. A pale moon peeked past the atmosphere, bathing the mother and son in a silvery light as stars winked at them.

Sniffling, Bulma rubbed her eyes with the heel of her right hand, shaking her head. Her nasal passageway burned as tears leaked from the corner of her eyes, and she sobbed into Trunks' hair. Squeezing Trunks' tightly, Bulma pressed her lips together to muffle her cries before releasing a shaky sigh.

"Daddy's watching over us. We're going to be okay, Trunks," she croaked the broken promise, her throat tightening as she forced the words from her mouth. "It's just you and me, and that's okay…"

 _A year ago, I would have never imagined where I am today. Never would I have dreamed that I am the CEO of Capsule Corporation, or that I would make lifelong friends and have a beautiful baby boy. His son. Unfortunately, I never would have guessed that I would fall in love, only to have that ripped away from me. Life is interesting that way, I suppose - it just keeps throwing the unexpected your way, and you just have to pull through it. Things unravel quickly; so fast that before we can realize what the best things are that surround us, they are gone._

 _I am not sure if Vegeta ever forgave me, but I cannot stop myself from hoping that he did. If not in this life, then maybe the next. I promise to stand on the two foundations of strength and honor on which he stood so that he could restore his company, and his city to their original glory. Both his son and I will fulfill his dreams and his legacy. I promise this to you, Vegeta._

 _Farewell, my friend, my prince._

 _I love you,_

 _Bulma Brief.  
_

* * *

 **Fin.**


End file.
